Casting Off Shadows
by isaytoodlepip
Summary: Forced into hiatus by the stress of being a spy, the trauma of torture and threatening madness, Severus Snape leaves Hogwarts to find peace of mind, and maybe a reason to go on. SSRL SLASH. Warning: violence, sexual trauma.
1. one

**A/N:  All characters associated with Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.  The plot's all mine.  **

**Warning:  SS/RL slash, but it won't be anything explicit.  Of course.  Also, violence, mention of rape and torture, and language.**

**Spoilers: post-OOTP…evil book that it is.**

/Of course you don't have to go back, if he knows.  But are you certain?  He's been vindictive before, when he's been faced with disturbing information or, in your case, no information.  Shh, shh.  Stay still, my boy.  Of course you don't have to go back.  If we're certain he suspects you.  It would be suicide.  If we're certain.  But rest now, Severus, and we'll talk in the morning, when…/

It was dark, when he opened his eyes, and he was glad for it.  It could mean so many things, all of them carrying a hope that he rarely felt.  He could be in his rooms, which would mean he wasn't hurt all that badly, or else Poppy would have had him shackled to one of the private beds in the hospital wing.  It could be night, which would mean that any meeting with the Headmaster was still hours away.  Or, it could be that he was blind, which would mean he had outlived his usefulness, in which case he could _stop_.  And how he wanted to stop.

But he moved his hands to his face and could see the bandages, so there was one hope gone.  And, tilting his head to the side, he saw dim lights reflected in tile through linen screening.  The infirmary then.  But it was obviously night, so that offered him some comfort.  Dropping his hands to his side, he pushed himself up against the headboard, slowly, not wanting to aggravate the wounds on his hands, which were the only part of his anatomy worth anything, in his opinion.  The only part of him that anyone had ever called beautiful.  It was the long fingers, fingers of an artist.  He was glad for the darkness, as it kept him from seeing how mangled those fingers were.  

Now sitting up, he took in his surroundings.  His bed was, of course, screened off from the others in the infirmary, but he knew that the place was empty.  It was early in the term, so no Quidditch injuries yet.  And Potter was keeping himself out of trouble these days, ever since his rule-breaking had led to Black's death.  It was quiet, and Poppy was probably sleeping in her rooms, adjoining the office.  Severus sat up straighter and freed himself from the swaddling sheets, swinging his legs out and planting his feet on the cold floor.  Someone had gotten him out of his Death Eater robes and into his pajamas.  Probably a team of house elves, he thought.  His colleagues had strange ideas about his dignity, as if he could have _any_ after the years he had been associated with Voldemort.  No, any dignity had been burned out of his body by the mark that was still smoldering on his left arm.  He wasn't being called, only reminded.  

"Fuck," he sighed, with no real emotion behind the sentiment.  He was being reminded that he was still property of the Dark Lord, which meant that the evening's…_festivities _were, in fact, products of frustration.  He was still a trusted Death Eater after all.  Dumbledore would be so pleased.

Severus gingerly put weight on his hands as he struggled to stand, and the struggled to remember what had been done to him.  Apart from the usual.  Nothing that would keep him from walking, he decided.  The injuries were concentrated on his back and his hands.  No, he didn't want to think about his hands.  He could still smell the acid, hear the way his flesh boiled off the bone…no, he wouldn't think about that.  And he most certainly wouldn't stay to be fussed over.  Once sure of his balance, he silently slipped out of the hospital wing and began walking towards the dungeon.  His back muscles protested, and when he moved certain ways, he could feel his shirt sticking to open wounds.  He tried to remember what would have kept Poppy from closing them, but he couldn't.  He also couldn't help but stare at his hands.  They were wrapped tightly in gauze, which Severus assumed was soaked in one of his potions.  Each finger was wrapped separately, so the flesh that was growing there wouldn't bind together like some hideous flipper.  

Severus was so focused on his hands that he didn't notice Mrs. Norris tearing down the hallway until she was underfoot.  Her sharp yowl distracted him and he instinctively reached out his arm to catch his balance.  Unfortunately, the blinding pain that met him when his hand met the wall was enough to send him to floor just the same.

"Fuck!" he hissed, eyes closed so tightly that he could feel an uncomfortable pressure there.  He cursed at the cat a few more times under his breath and, when he was certain he would not cry, he opened his eyes and looked at the bandages on his right hand, which were now soaked with blood.  He tried to tell himself that this was a good thing.  It meant, after all, that the potion was working.  Last he remembered, his hands had been stripped of skin, flesh, and circulatory system.  Last he remembered, he had looked down at his hands being jerked up from the acid and they were only bone.  

He was crying, he knew, but he couldn't wipe his face, not like this.  And he couldn't stay in the hallway all night.  He briefly considered returning to the hospital wing, but the thought made him want to cry even more, and that reaction was enough to convince him that he needed to be in his rooms.  He couldn't understand why he was being so emotional tonight.  He had, after all, endured torture several times, and surely Cruciatus was worse than this.  Surely the rapes were worse than this.  And he'd never cried after _that_.  "Fuck," he sighed again, as he made up his mind to stand.  Only, he found he couldn't.  He was wary of using his hands to push himself up, and just as concerned about sliding up the wall with his whip-torn back.  Maybe if…

"Severus?"

"Fuck."  It was Remus Lupin, who had come back to his position as the school's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a concession Fudge made to the headmaster in exchange for his half-hearted support for Fudge's continuation as Minister.

"Severus, what are you doing here?" Remus asked, leaning down and gripping Severus by the elbows to help him up.  "Poppy will skin you alive if…"

Severus almost smiled at the horror in Lupin's eyes when the man realized his faux pax.

"She'd have to get in line," he grinned, unable to catch himself.  Yes, he decided, he was definitely too emotional to return to the infirmary.  And he was still crying.

"Severus?" Remus asked, his concern for the Potions Master returning ten fold.  

"I'm tired," Severus answered.  Normally, he would sneer, say something biting about werewolves or dead dogs, but he was _tired_.  And crying.  Still.

"I'll help you to your rooms," Remus said, gently tugging at Severus's elbow.  "Do you need me to check that hand?"

"No," Severus answered, letting Lupin lead him to the dungeons.  "It can't be unwrapped until the skin grows back, or we'll just be begging for an infection."  

As they walked, Severus could discern another pain, distinct from the fire on his back and the sharp ache in his right hand.  Another thing that Poppy had left, it seemed.  

He never told Albus about these nights, when Voldemort killed two birds with one stone.  It was simple enough.  Take a Muggle, it didn't matter who.  Put him under Imperio.  Lead him to the offending Death Eater.  Then it's a party, two rapes for the price of one, and all Voldemort had to do was sit back and watch.  Then the Muggle would be killed, after he had a few minutes to think about what he'd done, and the Death Eater, penetrated and repentant, would be tortured and sent home to live another day, lesson learned.  Only Severus would never learn his lesson.  He was under orders from his other master not to.

"Severus?" 

They were at the warded door to his rooms.  "Henry Doyle," he whispered, not to hide his password from Lupin, who could probably hear the tears falling from his face, but because his throat always tightened when he said that name.  It was for Henry Doyle alone that Severus would go back to Voldemort no matter what part of him he stripped away, and Albus could go fuck himself.

Lupin saw him inside, sat him down on his bed, and left to look on the shelves for something.  Finding it, he returned to Severus, slowly lifted his shirt off, and gently pushed him towards the bed until he was lying on his stomach, with his hands stretched in front of him.

"Do you know why she left these open?" Lupin asked, his fingers softly skirting around the half-dozen lashes on Severus's back.

"Probably because of the drugs she had to pump into me for my hands," Severus sighed.  "That salve you have shouldn't react adversely with any of the potions."

So Lupin carefully applied the salve to Severus's wounds, which were superficial compared to some of the injuries he'd seen the man come home with.  "Why do the Death Eaters remain loyal to him, if this is how he repays them?" he asked as he worked.

"I really couldn't tell you, Lupin.  He never hurt me when I was loyal to him," Severus answered.  

"I thought he hurt everyone."

"He kept me away from that," Severus answered.  "He kept me away from everything until I made a potion he was so pleased with that he wanted me to be by his side for the demonstration."

"What happened?" Remus asked quietly, not wanting Severus to remember who he was talking to.

"Henry Doyle died and I turned myself in to Dumbledore."

Remus was done and was pulling a chair from the corner of the room closer to the bed.

"I'm going to stay the night, Severus," he said, settling in the chair and conjuring a blanket for himself.  

"Why?" Severus asked.

"You aren't behaving like yourself," Lupin answered.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About?"

"Tonight.  Do you want to tell me what happened?  Why you are crying?"

"No.  No, turn off the light.  Could you pull my blanket over me?  My hands are…mummified," he chuckled.  No, he was not behaving like himself.  

"Severus?"

"Merlin, Remus, blame it on the pain meds if it'll put you at ease," he snapped.  That would have been more in character if he had not said "Remus", but it was close enough.

Remus turned off the lights, but he stayed awake until Severus fell asleep near dawn, still crying.

/Of course he doesn't have to go back, if he's been found out, but it seems more likely that Voldemort was merely venting.  It is Severus's decision, not yours Remus.  It was good of you to stay with him.  Poppy was frantic when she found his bed empty.  Crying?  Are you sure?  Well, maybe, the pain from his hands…are you sure?  Well, I'd give him time if it was mine to give, but it'll only be worse for him if he doesn't go when summoned.  Remus, go, have some breakfast.  He won't appreciate you being here, when he's more himself.  Leave him alone.  It's what he is used to, what is safe for him…/

What little sunlight that could reach the dungeon rooms was stinging his eyes when he awoke.  Looking about himself, he could see that the Headmaster had been here, his teacup half-empty on the bedside table.  He'd be coming back then, if the elves hadn't cleared it away yet.  Severus looked down at his hands.  The bandages were more filled out than they had been.  His hands had grown back.  Tentatively flexing his fingers and feeling no pain, only a strange tightness around the joints, he undid the wrappings.  No scars, but no finger prints either.  He'd have to look into that.  Looking at the clock, he saw that he had only ten minutes until his first class.  Obviously Albus had deemed him too unwell to supervise the brats, but he'd be damned if he let word get back to Voldemort, via Draco Malfoy, that he'd been incapacitated by last night's events.  Rushing to stand and get dressed, he winced at the pain that he hadn't allowed Lupin to heal.  Determined not to think about such things, he hurried through a scalding shower, shrugged into his robes, and left for his classroom, all the time wondering where the Headmaster was.  He faintly remembered hearing his voice, along with Lupin's, but he couldn't be sure when that was, or even if it was a dream.

Walking into his class, he found the Headmaster, giving instructions for a deflating draught.  To _seventh years_!

"Ah, Professor Snape!" Dumbledore greeted, all smiles even as his eyes turned to ice.  "Feeling better, I see?"

"It was nothing a potion couldn't take care of," Severus answered, waving his wand to clear the board and put up the instructions for a potion more appropriate for the upper level students.

"Well, I'll leave them in your capable hands," Dumbledore said, patting Severus on the arm before leaving.

Severus waited until the door was firmly shut before sitting down behind his desk and telling the students to go about their business.

He was predictably ambushed at lunch.

"How are you feeling, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, not bothering to hide his scrutiny of the amount of food on Severus's plate.  It wasn't nearly enough.  Severus could never manage to give himself what he needed.

"Strangely open to suggestion and conversation, as a matter of fact," Severus answered.

"Please pass the chicken salad," Minerva said.

"My pleasure," Severus smiled, and did just that, well aware of the looks of concern that were erupting on several of his colleagues' faces.

"You seem to be in a pleasant mood, Severus," Flitwick carefully observed.  

"Not at all, Filius.  I can't get the smell of the acid that ate away my hands out of my nose, my back is still sore, maybe infected, and I think that last night's rape has finally unhinged me.  Which isn't all that surprising, since it was the hundredth one, something of an occasion, and I was so touched that Voldemort remembered.  Really, I was.  We reminisced over a bottle of very nice wine afterwards, talking about the good old days.  I'm afraid I wasn't good company though.  He had to keep reviving me.  I don't think it was the pain that made me pass out, just the shock of looking at my hands, which were just bleached bones at that point.  Not a pretty picture, but I'm sure I could have found something to laugh about if I'd been able to move my fingers.  I seem to recall something of an animated skeleton being a hit at the Halloween feast my third year.  That was you, wasn't it Filius?  What was I saying?  Oh, I remember.  He had to keep Enervating me, but when I was conscious, we had a lovely chat.  About my initiation.  I won't go into the details of _that_.  But he reminded me of something.  Or maybe I never knew.  No, I'm sure I didn't know, because now that I'm thinking about it, I can't remember my initiation.  At all.  Beyond what he told me last night.  _Apparently_, my father sold me to the Dark Lord.  For three thousand galleons.  See, I remember the money, because he bought me my first gold cauldron when I was in my seventh year.  But I can't remember deciding to…well, I'm beginning to think that I was under Imperio those first few meetings, and then I just got accustomed to showing when summoned.  And I find that very disconcerting, because here I thought, all these years, that I was working off past sins, when really, some of it wasn't my fault.  Do you think that buys me a vacation, Headmaster?  Because really, I'm feeling awfully tired and not a little suicidal at the moment and, no matter what you all think of me, I do have a certain harmless affection for the majority of my students and I think it would be remiss of me to off myself in front of their relatively innocent eyes.  I'm thinking Cornwall, something a little warmer.  Of course it would be impractical to leave Britain, should either of my masters need me, but I've already asked Lord Voldemort's permission.  He noticed I looked a little under the weather, I suppose, and said that he wouldn't need to see me for a few weeks, what with his other little spies still in school.  So, may I go, may I please go?"

Severus had said all this softly, calmly, as he ate his lunch and watched the students laughing in the hall, rushing to finish course work, complaining about detentions or assignments, playing with their food and with each other.  He did not notice the dawning looks of disbelief, disgust, horror, grief, and overwhelming concern on the faces of his peers, who had all listened to him for once.  He did not notice that Albus Dumbledore's eyes teared up at the mention of the rapes, that Remus Lupin buried his face in his hands, that Filius Flitwick turned slightly green at the allusion to his dancing skeleton trick, that Minerva McGonagall's face glowed with righteous indignation when he spoke of his father's transgression.  He did see that Potter and Granger were both watching him with worry, but a raised eyebrow took care of that.  

And then he realized no one was answering him.  "Have I forgotten something?" he asked.  "Of course I'd be willing to finish out the week.  Well, I'm willing to stay for ever if that's what you want from me, but I'm concerned that 'forever' will be considerably shorter for me if I don't get the fuck out of this school for a few days, Albus.  Incidentally, I don't seem to have any fingerprints anymore.  That's something of a fresh start, isn't it?  But no, things don't work that way.  My, look at the time," he exclaimed.  "We'll all be late for class," he chuckled.  "I'll see you this evening."

And he left.


	2. two

A/n: See Pt. 1 for disclaimer and warnings.  And responses to reviews at the end of the story.

He was on a boat.  Or rather, _they_ were on a boat.  A few short minutes after his "episode" in the Great Hall, the Headmaster had summoned him from his class room, told him to pack his bags, and placed him in the custody of Remus Lupin.  It was only as he was considering his bookshelves, searching for something that he'd read often enough that the plot would not be destroyed by his drifting attention, that he realized exactly what he had admitted to.  In front of everyone.  Laughing to himself, he had to agree with Dumbledore's decision to send someone along as chaperone.  But Lupin?  He couldn't understand what the man was doing here, other than depriving the students of yet another professor.  And what would Voldemort say when he found out that Severus had a travel companion?  Maybe he could make up some story about research at Tintagel, looking for some text on Merlin or some such rubbish…

But they weren't going to Cornwall.  They were on a boat.  To Lundy Island, which is nearer Devonshire.  But Severus had said he wanted something warmer, and Lundy, windswept though it was, was farther south than Hogwarts and had the added benefit of being isolated, easier to secure.  Minerva apparently had a Muggle friend who kept one of the 3-mile-long island's lighthouses, and he was more than willing to surrender his post, and house, for a few weeks' vacation and a train ticket to Bristol.  Dumbledore had sent Arthur Weasley ahead to establish security wards, which was why Severus and Lupin were on a boat.  

"Severus?" Lupin asked, interrupting Severus's staring into the distance, back at the shrinking white dot that was Hartland Point, on the mainland.

"Hmm?" Severus intoned.  

"We're here," Lupin answered.

"Mm."

"Severus?"

"For God's…what?" Severus snapped.  The whole trip so far had been "Severus?" "Severus?" "Severus?"  He was beginning to hate his name even more, which he hadn't thought possible.  Maybe, after he figured out a potion that would give him fingerprints, he could devise one that would give him a new name.  A new face.  A body that hasn't been beaten.  Or raped.  Or branded.  And maybe Voldemort would stop calling him, and Albus would stop caring, and he could just float off to sea, a shrinking black dot that no one would watch as it disappeared into the horizon.  

"We're here," Lupin repeated.

"I know, Remus, I heard you the first time.  Are we in a hurry?"

"No," Remus answered, smiling.  Severus wanted to smack the smile off, but he couldn't understand why.  He quite liked it, Remus's smile.  It was almost always pained, and that was something Severus understood very well.  And besides, he'd put a fraction of that pain there, long ago.  In a different life.

"Then let me stand here and look around for a moment, will you?  If you're bored, you could see to our luggage."

"Yes master," Remus snorted good-naturedly. 

"Don't," Severus hissed.  

"I'm sorry.  I apologize," Remus whispered, realizing what he had said.

"You're sorry _and_ you apologize?" Severus sneered.

"Yes.  Just to show you I mean it," Remus answered before retreating into the cabin where he had left their bags.  

Severus watched him go before disembarking from the boat.  It was a novel way of traveling, but Severus preferred to have his feet firmly on the ground.  It was mildly amusing to see the worry on Lupin's face as the werewolf searched for him in the crowd.  As if he could have killed himself properly in two minutes.  Without a wand, which Dumbledore had politely confiscated, for "safe keeping", as he put it.

"Over here!" Severus yelled, waving his hand in the air, though the shout was enough to draw Lupin's attention.

"I thought you wanted to look around?" Remus asked when he reached the other man.

"I am.  Looking at the boat as we speak.  Don't you want to shrink those bags?"

"No, we're meant to look like Muggle tourists.  Come on, I think it's time we had something to eat."

The lighthouse looked decades old, but the interior was well-kept.  It was obvious that a family lived here, their lives framed on the walls, held with magnets to the refrigerator.  Cushions on chairs and sofas were worn, a light sheen on the wooden furniture spoke of a thoughtful woman polishing her house for her guests.  There were two bedrooms, but Remus would have to enlarge the mattress in the child's room if one of them was meant to sleep on it.  The light itself was relatively new, electric.  It did not really need monitoring, and Severus was initially puzzled as to why the lighthouse needed a keeper at all, until he scrutinized the picture on the wall and discovered that it was a family business of sorts.  

"Severus?"

Remus had quietly watched his companion take in his surroundings calmly, while he set their things down in the hall way and went about making tea and laying out a few scones and strawberry preserves, Severus's favorite.  He became concerned when Severus had paused in front a portrait of a large family standing in front of the lighthouse.  Severus's eyes had swept over the faces and then shut tightly, his hand rising slowly to rest on the wall beside the frame's edge, as if he was steadying himself.  Poppy had warned him of various indicators of pain, shock, and emotional breakdown, as if he was ignorant of those things.  As much as he knew it irritated the generally closed-off man to be cared for and worried after, Remus couldn't suppress his concern.  Not after that confession in the Great Hall, and not after decades of habit.

"If you say my name like that one more time, Lupin, I swear to God I'll hex you," Severus answered, his voice a mockery of accommodation.

"I only wanted to tell you that the tea is ready," Remus lied.

"Then say, 'The tea is ready.'  It's direct, simple, and does not remind me of…just don't say my name.  I don't want…" he trailed off, trying to remember what he had been thinking of earlier, looking at the family portrait.  Oh yes, tradition.  He'd been a victim of tradition as well, but unlike the owner of this house, who had the noble charge of keeping light, Severus had been ordered into darkness itself.  He was damned at birth, it seemed.

"The tea is ready," Remus said quietly, touching Severus's shoulder to drag him away from his memories.

"You know that if I don't snap out of this, I can't ever go back," Severus said, sitting down to tea.

"Would it be so bad?" Remus asked, honestly curious.

"Yes.  I am of some use, you know," Severus answered curtly.

"I meant on the personal level, for you.  Do you want to go back?"

"I…some days, I enjoy what I do.  The teaching, I mean.  The other, it's not a choice I can make.  But teaching, I would miss that.  The good days."

"Not the Neville Longbottoms though, correct?" Remus smiled.

"No, Longbottom is a good sort.  And he's improved, vastly after the end of his fifth year.  He's no longer afraid of me, and that helps immensely in the class room."

"I'm glad to hear it," Remus answered.  

"Do you enjoy teaching?" Severus asked.

"I enjoy the normality of having a job," Remus answered.

"But not the actual work?"

"I don't enjoy the necessity of it.  But of course, it's always gratifying when a student excels, and I like being popular with most of the houses, even when they know what I am.  I haven't had this level of acceptance in quite some time."

"And you like being closer to Potter," Severus added.

"Well, yes," Remus answered awkwardly, though he wasn't sure of the source of his discomfort.  "Harry is a remarkable young man.  I'm glad to know him, and I can't help but feel that he needs me around.  Because of my link to his parents, and to Sirius."

"You don't think he needs you for yourself?"

"I wouldn't say that.  I think he appreciates that I care for him unconditionally, and not as The Boy Who Lived or even as James' and Lily's son.  And we get along well.  But not a day goes by that he doesn't ask me what I think Sirius would say or do, or what his father would say or do in a given situation.  I'm like a living reference work on the people he really loves."

"You deserve more," Severus commented quietly, staring into his teacup.

"I'm grateful for what I have."

"No!" Severus snapped.  "You aren't simply the leftovers of a wonderful, destroyed thing.  You deserve better!"

"So do you," Remus whispered, shocked by Severus's vehemence, when the man had made it a point not to care for him before his life had gone to hell.

"I'm tired.  The boat ride upset my balance," Severus sighed.

"Go, rest.  Take the master bedroom.  I'll work on enlarging the other bed."

A/N 2:

Ilmare2:  Thanks for the review.  Yes, it seems angst is my specialty.  Not sure why…Anyhoo, I'll try to update as frequently as possible.  And to always be one chapter ahead of myself, if that makes sense.  We'll see how this turns out, I'm not used to SS/RL combos.

Barbara Kennedy: Don't worry, Severus will get better, if only for the fact that I can't sustain "crazy!Snape" for too long without jeopardizing my mental health, not to mention the quality of this story.

Caliowiel:  Thanks!

Blah blah blah: Yes, yes it does have to be SS/RL.  If it's just that pairing you're objecting to, I can see where you're coming from, since I generally only read fics pairing Harry with Snape (older Harry, that is) and Fabula Rasa's SS/SB stories, which are wonderful.  But I wanted Remus this time, so here he is.  If it's slash in general you don't like, well…this won't be a story for you.

Dina:  Thanks for reviewing.  Your concerns are valid, but I don't think that Severus was being careless with his secrets when he made that little scene, or at least deliberately careless.  I made a point to make him speak softly and only Dumbledore, Minerva, Flitwick and Remus heard him.  As to the aspect of him being too private a person to admit to what happened to him, you're absolutely right.  Normally, he wouldn't go about telling _anyone_ such things, and the fact that he did so is a mark of how these events have effected him.  I don't think it's particularly out of character for him to have an extreme reaction to repeated torture, though I can't imagine J.K. Rowling consigning him to the loony bin any time soon.  No matter how controlled and closed-off he seems most of the time in the books, he frequently has outbursts of rage, indignation, etc. (see POA, the Shrieking Shack scene).  The one aspect of Rowling's Snape that I usually fail/refuse to capture is his pettiness.  But back to the point, her Snape, while reserved, is obviously an emotional man, and by extension, _my_ Snape has been driven into an extreme emotional state by trauma. Sorry for the treatise, but I hope it makes my story seem a little more plausible.  If not, I hope you can just file this under Alternate Universe and enjoy just the same.


	3. three

**A/N:  The majority of this chapter is a dream sequence, a flashback really to the end of Severus's 5th year, the summer after, and the beginning of 6th year, surrounding the incident Harry saw in Snape's penseive in OOTP and the prank at the Shrieking Shack.  Hopefully, the timeline isn't screwy in respects to the books, but, c'est la vie. **

**//…// : dream**

Severus settled himself in the master bedroom.  The mattress was lumpy, the bed frame unstable, but the soft blues and creams of the décor set him at ease.  Telltale marks of a happy life littered the room.  Scarves draped carelessly across a wardrobe, a bookshelf filled with cooking magazines and bric-a-brac.  A trophy of gold-plated plastic in the shape of some sort of fish.  A stuffed bear in the rocking chair by the window.  The room smelled of apples and cinnamon, and the blankets on the bed were made of goose down.  Severus slipped off his shoes and under the covers, stared at the window and listened to Remus rove about in the next room.  Since they were children, Severus had made it a point not to be so close to that man, and now, here they were, living together in a house meant for family.  Thinking about the irony of it all, of the long-defeated dream he'd once had of leading a life very close to this, with this very man, Severus fell asleep, and begged for dreams that would remind him, again, why he could never be so happy.

**//** Severus managed to escape the Marauders a few minutes after Lily had left for the castle, but it was enough time for nearly a quarter of the school's students to witness his humiliation.  Cheeks and eyes burning, he had calmly walked back to the entrance hall, before making a mad run towards the dungeons.  A few younger Slytherins were milling about the common room, obscenely rested in comparison to the Fifth and Seventh Years, who were in the middle of a hellish series of exams.  Severus tried to ignore these students as he made for his room, but he could not escape their quiet laughs.  House solidarity did not extend to ignoring a member's marks of shame, it seemed.

            Once in his room, which was blissfully empty, Severus was tempted to throw himself into bed, but instead he tugged furiously at his school robes, half choking himself with his tie in his haste to be free.  He had just started to pull the robes over his head when a soft knock at his door stilled him.  

            "Fuck off!" he barked, but the boy came in just the same.

            "Are you ok?" Remus asked, and Severus couldn't help but notice the look on his face.  Pity.  It was strange to him that he recognized that emotion at all.  His father had no pity.  Dumbledore had no pity.  James Potter had no pity.  And Severus Snape had no pity.  Especially not for _Gryffindors_.  

            "How I am is of no concern to you,  _Lupin_, as you so effectively demonstrated not ten minutes ago," Severus snarled.  "I suggest you leave before I report you to Gelding."

            "Don't be like this, please," Remus begged, his eyes shining in a way that Severus found particularly painful to see.  Maybe he did have pity after all.

            "My own fault, really," Severus said.  "My weakness is a desire to be near you.  Or  _was_," he added, seeing the buds of a smile blooming on Remus's face.

            "Well why didn't you fight back?  You could have taken James, easy," Remus demanded, losing his temper at last.  He had  _told_  Severus to stay away from James and Sirius, particularly when Lily Evans was around.  He had _told_ Severus.  

            "Maybe I wanted to see how long you'd let them hurt me," Severus whispered.

            "Oh, Severus.."

            "Save your breath, Remus," Severus snapped.  "I've learned my lesson.  I was wrong to think I could mean anything to you.  Anything more than this," he finished, as he stripped off his robes, Lily's taunts still ringing in his ears.  ' _I'd wash my pants if I were you'_.  As if they didn't know that it wasn't an issue of hygiene.  With all of the House Elves around the castle, how could it be?  

            "Get a good look at this, Lupin," he whispered coldly, gesturing to his graying underclothes.  "I'm sure you soon will be on intimate terms with poverty."

            "What…what do you mean?" Remus asked, his face drained of color.

            Severus would have laughed if it weren't for that stubborn streak of love that was tearing through his heart, even as he was surely breaking it.  Severus was an intelligent young man.  And he knew every scar on Remus's body, every inch of him, every mark of pain, exhaustion, worry.  Maybe if he had told Remus that he  _knew _, the werewolf would have…no, Severus wouldn't play this game any more.  He was done.

            "Nothing," Severus sighed.  "Tell your little friends that they won't get the best of me next time."

            "And I won't either, will I?" Remus asked, and he was crying freely now.

            "Do you think you deserve it?" Severus asked.

            "I love you," Remus replied, unable to tell Severus the truth, that he did not deserve anything from him.

            "And I can't allow  _this_  to be what love is."

@@@

            The next had been the worst summer of Severus Snape's life.  When he began his fifth year at Hogwarts, he had expected this, but then, he'd never dreamed of falling in love with Remus Lupin.  And loving Remus was so easy, so second nature, that Severus had allowed himself the delusion of thinking,  _I have always been and always will be _**this**_happy _.  His pragmatism had flown out the window in the face of passion, intimacy, and genuine friendship, and he had forced himself to forget that such beautiful things would never survive a summer at home.  He had convinced himself that the promise of seeing Remus again would bring him through it all.  What a fool he had been.  Remus was as good as dead to him, there was no hope, and thus there was no escaping the very real fact that his father had a surplus of violence just waiting to be doled out.  Mavortis Snape was a small, petty man bound in muscles fed by labor, insecurity, and hatred.  Severus was forced to absorb these things every day for months, and every day for months, when he stepped in front of the wand, or the fist, he would try to picture Remus in his father's place.  Remus, hitting him and cursing him and hating him just for existing.  But it didn't work.  His Remus would always smile, cry and smile and try to make him feel better.  Severus knew that the next term would be impossible.

@@@

            "What are you doing?" Severus hissed, pulling Remus farther along the corridor so his fellow Slytherins wouldn't see.  It was the beginning of their 6th year and they had been on the Hogwarts Express for hours, Severus trying desperately not to think about how damnably close he was to Remus, trying not to imagine that he could smell the boy's shampoo, or sweat, or…and then Remus had to ruin everything and come to him.

            "I just wanted," Remus stuttered, doing a poor job of hiding his discomfort at Severus's strong grip on his forearm, but Severus interrupted him.

            "I thought I made it clear months ago that I don't  _care_  what you want," Severus answered.  

            "Please, Severus, we can't let it be like this," Remus murmured, his eyes unable to meet Severus's.  

            "This was all it ever was, wasn't it?" Severus demanded.  He was angry, furious.  It wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair that Remus make him say these things, not when it was his fault it was over.  It wasn't fair that Severus had to be the villain.  "It was pain, and it was violence, and it was dirty. Sneaking around, ashamed to be seen.  That was all it ever was.  That and a quick fuck, and I can get that elsewhere without so high a cost."  It wasn't true.  He wanted to scream that it wasn't true, but he watched Remus's head snap up, saw the tears there, and slowly caught his breath as Remus walked away, never noticing the glaring eyes of a third party.

Two weeks into the new term and Severus's resolve was fading fast.  He had tried ignoring Remus when their houses had class together.  He had heeded the werewolf's earlier advice and stayed away from James Potter and Sirius Black.  He had even avoided meals in the Great Hall when he could, not eating for days until his strength failed him, and even then he ate quickly and took what he could away with him to the dorms.  But then, he was so tired of it all.  The absence of Remus Lupin from Severus's life was worse than whatever pain being with him had brought.  He told himself that he wasn't looking to be lovers again, just friends.  No, just study partners.  It was a weak lie, he knew, but still Severus decided to find the boy and talk to him.

            It proved harder than he had imagined.

            "What do you _want_, Snivellus?" Black demanded.  Severus had been following his enemy all day, hoping that he would lead him to Remus, who hadn't been seen since breakfast.  Severus wasn't surprised.  He had noticed that Remus tended to shut himself away in the days immediately preceding the full moon.  It was yet another habit that had alerted Severus to the nature of his lover.  Ex-lover.

            "I  _want_ you to go to hell, Black, but I'd settle for you getting out of my way," Severus sneered, knowing that he couldn't simply _ask_ where Remus was hiding.

            "You know, one of these days, you won't be protected by the rules of this school.  Or by _girls_ with an over-inflated sense of pity," Black retorted, a cruel smile spreading on his face.  "And when that day comes, and you're all alone, all your Slytherin friends having left you behind when they realized what a pathetic, weak piece of shit you really are, on that day, I'll be there, _Snivellus._"

            "I find it amusing, Black, that an outcast like you can paint such a vivid picture of what it is to be weak, and alone.  Mummy teach you that?  Is this the speech she gave you?  Just before you ran away from home and hid with the Potters?  Were they the only ones that would take you in?  Oh yes, I remember now.  They  _do_  like strays, don't they?  Big on charity towards displaced magical  _beasts_.  Wounded, little animals.   _You're_ their new pet."

            Severus had watched the color in Black's face grow redder and redder with every word, and the glint in his eyes cool to the color of steel, but that did not stop him from pouring every bit of hate in him into those taunts.  He  _hated_  Sirius Black.  He _loathed_ Potter and his entire, perfect, loving family.   They all preached about kindness to less fortunate people, about sympathy, pity, charity.  About being humane.  How could Remus stomach it?  How could he not _see_ that he was merely an exercise in nobility when it came to his "friends"?  He was just a defenseless creature that needed saving, just like that whelp Pettigrew.  How could Remus settle for this?

            "You just shut up!" Black shouted, hand stumbling around in his robes for his wand.  

            "Oh, I'm scared.  Big bad _wolf_  is going to bite me," Severus taunted, knowing perfectly well what he was doing.

            "You haven't seen the big bad wolf yet, _Snivellus_," Black growled, and Severus noticed that the feeble attempt to reach for his wand had been given up.  "You want to have a go at me?  There's a secret passageway, under the Whomping Willow.  Press down on the knot in the wood, and it will open.  It leads out beyond Hogwarts' wards, so no one will know we're there.  You have the guts to show up, tonight, and we'll just see which of us has more _bite_."

            It was a feeble lure.  Severus knew that if Black had really wanted to fight him, something as trivial as school rules would not have stopped him.  No, Severus knew what this was.  Remus had to go somewhere safe for the change.  Tonight was the full moon.  And Sirius Black was angry.  Admittedly, Severus had never  _really_ thought that Black had it in him.  Either to be a murderer, or so bad a friend.  And Severus didn't think  _he_ had it in him to follow Black's advice, until later that evening.

            Severus had just entered the Great Hall, his hunger demanding that he eat a proper meal, when he heard it.  The ominous sound that was the collective laugh of the Gryffindor Sixth Year class.  He tried to ignore it, but the whispers as he passed were too much.  They were laughing at _him_, all of them.  Even Remus, this time.  Remus, who had always let them hurt Severus any way they could but had never joined in.  He was laughing now, as Potter reenacted last term's infamous altercation.  He was _laughing_ when Potter said, "And did you see those burn marks on his legs?  Probably from when he tried to spell off the hair, the fucking queer."

            It was a determined Severus Snape that followed Remus to the Whomping Willow last night.  He knew what could happen.  Remus could kill him.  Severus would be dead, Black would be arrested, and Remus, Remus would be put down like the animal he was.  Severus knew all this, and that only drove him on. 

Damn Potter for stopping him. 

Damn Remus for being contrite the next morning. 

And damn Sirius Black for taking it all away from him.//

A/N:  Thanks to… 

**Alia**

**Labidolemur**

**White owl2**

**Kira**

**Lillinfields**

**Macabre Leprechaun Maiden**

**Excessivelyperky**

**JennyRad**

**Darklady**

**DumbOldDork**

Raven dancer


	4. four

**A/N:  Just a reminder about a few things.  This is SS/RL slash.  J.K. Rowling owns these characters.  And also, due to an unfortunate habit I have of starting fanfics without a clear ending in sight and subsequently taking for-e-ver to update towards the blessed end of the bloody things…well, this time I'm only posting when I have a good 2 chapters under my belt.  So, obviously I can't cater to reviewers' wishes in regards to plot development, but if you point out any hideous flaws, I might take them into consideration and either justify my position or fix the problem.  Only, 2 chapters late.**

Severus awoke from the dream.  Memory.  Dream.  He couldn't be sure, really.  These past few months, or was it years?, had blended reality and…what was the opposite of lucidity?  He couldn't even remember _that_ anymore.  He couldn't recognize that state of being.  If he was one for romantic, idle notions, he'd think: my life is a rendition of someone else's grand design, drawn in the blackest of charcoal, and the artist (his father, Voldemort, Albus?) had stood back, but not too far, can't let him be for even a moment, had stood back and looked at what had been created and decided that the lines were too sharp, just like my face, and He had taken his thumb and _smeared_ the boundaries, just there, and there.  Like at that moment, as Severus arose from bed and crossed over to the window, and the waves, they were liquid of course, and foam at the peaks, but the hissing they made was steely.  The ocean has the power to smooth jagged glass, while it harbors some of the most deadly predators on this planet.  Severus had to get away from people who had such power over him, if only to avoid feeling forever like a monster.

            Forcing himself to move away from the window, he focused on the sounds coming from the other room, from Remus.  It was a messy situation, the one carried by that man and the past they had shared.  It was easier to believe the vitriol he spouted about Lupin before Voldemort had returned.  Severus would look at the man, think about how laughable it was, the notion of a tame beast, and he would say as much in answer to Lupin's quiet, forgiving, pained smiles and too familiar use of his name.  But then the Dark Lord was reborn and Severus was called upon to trade his honor, dignity, morality, and even sanity for a Death Eater's mask and sibilant moans of "Severus, Severus", and Severus, who sometimes forgot that his name once meant something other than "whore", would believe in the taming of monsters.  

            When Severus found Remus in the kitchen, fixing more tea, he couldn't help laughing about the domesticity of it.  The portrait of a family, werewolf serving Death Eater whore traitor schizoid tea.  And scones.  And bars of chocolate, the panacea of the wizarding world.  Severus thought he needed Wormwood, but he'd left his potions at Hogwarts.  Or, rather, they had been squirreled away, along with his wand and all sharp objects.

            "Do you want to talk yet?" Remus asked him as they sat at the table.

            "Shouldn't you eat something?" 

            Remus took some chocolate.  

            Every movement, every action, was stilted, spaced out, deliberate.  Slow.

            "Wolves are allergic to chocolate, I think."

            "We are not completely alike, the wolf and I."

            "I should hope not.  I've seen wolves mate.  It does not look…"

            "Appealing?"

            "Comfortable."

            They were quiet.  Severus was thinking, I should not have dreamed today.  Remus was eating more chocolate, drinking tea, looking at Severus's shaking hands, looking away, looking again.  More tea.

            "So, are your eating habits similar?"

            "I suppose they are, now, much to my regret. Could you believe, I used to be a vegetarian?"

            "Didn't like the taste?"

            "It wasn't that.  My family used to own sheep.  The one winter we had lambs, I was 5, and my parents put them in bed with me, to keep them warm.  I got too attached.  But after…I used to lose so much blood, before your potion.   My father said meat would give me strength.  And this isn't what I meant by talking."

            Severus took some tea, but no chocolate.  He couldn't stomach comfort and Remus all in one sitting.  Too rich.  Too…too palatable for a man accustomed to swallowing much fouler things.

            "So, a wolf among the lambs?"

            "Not for long.  We moved into the city."

            "Why?  You'd be closer to humans, your real prey.  The temptation must have driven you mad, not to mention the annoyance of covering it all up."

            Severus saw Remus's eyes dance over his face at the words "mad" and "covering it all up".  No subtlety, but he knew Lupin was capable of it. It was meant to be seen, that little connection.  Like Remus was trying to make him feel ashamed, or weak, but that couldn't be right, because Remus, on his worst of days, was never cruel.  Only painfully ignorant.  Or needful of the wrong things.  Severus wished those were his only weaknesses.

            "But it was safer, for me.  And that's all they cared about.  If I had gotten loose in the moors, and a rancher had seen me, I'd be dead."

            "If you'd gotten loose in the city and killed someone, you'd be worse than dead."

            "Yes.  Damned.  And dead if I was caught and over the age of 15.

            "What?  What are you talking about?"

            "I'm talking about the law, Severus."

            "What law?"

            "Surely you…after what happened in school…surely you looked into it?"

            "I researched the curse, the change, I memorized the dates of the full moon for a bloody decade, but nothing about legal restrictions."

            "They execute werewolves, Severus.  If we kill a human, are over the age of 15, and are found criminally liable, we mar be put to death.  It was one of the reasons I felt so betrayed by Sirius when he pulled that stunt.  Of course, when he died, my guilt usurped all that anger and betrayal."

            Severus put on a blank face, begging to be educated, to hear the man, this voice, explain guilt.  And accountability.

            "The veil," Remus explained.  "Have you never wondered why it would be in the Ministry?  Why not simply destroy it, the wards are not so strong?  It's the executioner's block for humanoid beasts and monstrous beings.  Macnair and his crew don't get to torture were-creatures and vampires that have crossed the line.  My kind are simply pushed behind the veil.  I thank God I'm a man of faith, Severus.  It lets me believe that when Sirius fell, his soul went to Heaven.  I couldn't bear it if he were stuck in some temporal plane, with monsters like me his only company."

            "I'm sorry."  

            "For what?  It wasn't your fault."

            "I shouldn't have followed you to the shack, that night, 6th year."

            "You couldn't have known what you were looking for."

            "I did.  I knew."

            The tea spilled.  Severus didn't like that, the stain on the table cloth.  It looked…

            "Wha..how?"

            "Do you honestly believe that if Granger could piece it together, I, with all of my knowledge of your body, could have missed the signs?"

            "You knew?  All along?"

            "Yes."

            "Then why?  Severus, why on _earth_ would you come after me?

            "Your wolf, you mean?"

            "If you like."

            "I heard.  You laughed that morning, at what James said.  I heard.  And I couldn't…see."

            "I'm sorry, I can't…"

            "He was talking about that unfortunate incident in our 5th year, and the burns he saw on my legs.  He said…he said I'd done it, trying to wax my legs or some such nonsense.  Stop spilling your tea it looks like blood.  And you laughed, even though you _knew_ what happened."

            "Shit.  Shit.  Severus, I…"

            "I never laughed at your scars, Remus.  You'd have had me believe they were from a broom accident, and I still _never_ laughed.  But you knew.  You knew where mine came from because I never lied to you, not about that.  And you laughed."

            "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."

            "I know.  You're crying."

            "Sorry."

            "If I had known you'd be put down for killing me, I wouldn't have gone looking for you.  Do you believe me?"

            "Yes.  Yes, I know you wouldn't have."

            "And I didn't become a Death Eater over heart break.  Do you believe me?"

            "Yes.  You said your father…yes, I believe you.

            "Thank you."

            Remus spelled the table cloth clean.

            "We never talked, like this.  When we were young.  You didn't know I lived in a city.  I'd never realized…what did we _talk_ about?"

            "You were busy hiding what you are.  So you talked about your parents, about wanting to visit China, about Henry James of all things."

            "You talked about real things, though, didn't you?  It's what I loved about you, how open you were about things I'd have hidden."

            "And now I'm open with everyone."

            "Severus, don't."

            "I was referring to my confession in the Great Hall, Lupin.  I'll spare you the histrionics about…the other flaying."

            "I wish you wouldn't."

            "I don't remember you as a sadist."

            "You need to talk about it."

            "No.  I need to stop talking about it.  This proclivity to ramble on about classified matters will get someone killed."

            "So tell me.  Talk to me about it, and maybe the urge to ramble will fade."

            "Nothing to say, Lupin.  You know how these things work, the mechanics of it.  Fucking.  We learned together, raw openings, you know how it works.  But sometimes, engorgement charms were used, just to make things a little more crimson.  He killed the Muggles when they were done, but he spares me, that's what I have to remember.  I'm spared.  I'm spared."

            "He must know you're a spy, to hurt you so."

            "I don't believe so, no."

            "Then why?"

            "He knows I'm a coward.  That I won't betray Albus.  I don't give him enough information, and he no longer needs a Potions master, only a few people with enough training to brew basic poisons, truth serums and such,  I've become expendable, but I amuse him.  I entertain.  He says I'm the only man he's met that looks bored under _Crucio_.  He says I…my face when I come, he says…"

            "Shh.  Severus, don't."

            Severus looked out the window.  Every window an ocean.

            "We don't have to worry anymore, Remus.  I don't want to ramble at the moment."      

            "Good."

            "I want to kiss you."

            "Good.  But don't."

            "I know."

            Remus gave him some chocolate.

            "Remus?  I lied, before.  I knew you'd be put down.  Look, I can't hold a lie for more than five minutes.  I think I'll make some soup, for supper.  This chocolate…is laced with a calming potion.  I wish you hadn't done that."

            Severus saw the waves breaking.  Were the waves like tides, controlled by the moon?  Did all things controlled by the moon do this?  Break and reform and break break break all over again, for nothing.  For no one.  Who did Lupin break for?

            "Severus, I'm going to…I don't know.  I'm going to rest, for a few minutes.  Don't try to leave.  There are wards."

            "Yes.  I won't try to leave.  Do you believe me?"

**A/N:  Thanks to the following:**

**B. Kennedy**

**Ilmare2**

**Arafel2**

**Stellowpen**

**Caliowiel**

**Lavondyss21**

**Anna- qua?  Umm…I have lots o' stuff with more than 2 chapters.  Just so you know.  Yeah.**


	5. five

Remus had to get away from Severus.  He had to remember why they were there, why he shouldn't be angry, why it was well past time to feel hurt, and, most importantly, why it wasn't the best option for all involved to simply kill the man.  Or, worse yet, kiss him, because that impulse had been there too.  This broken Severus, he was stripped of the arrogance and hatred that had kept Remus from attempting to resuscitate an old love, an old habit, over the years.  But, that last conversation, the lies, the honesty, the preoccupation with hands and waves and stains that was only now beginning to terrify him, had reminded Remus that _this_ Severus, his sharp edges, and mind, finally worn down by the most weathering of lives, was not the 15 year old boy Remus had loved.  Nothing like.

Or so, Severus imagined Remus thinking.  He knew Lupin wasn't asleep in that room, just as he knew that the threat of confinement charms was just that, a threat.  True, there were perimeter alarms and anti-apparation spells, but they extended as far as the water to the west.  So Severus quietly left the lighthouse, hoping the werewolf was too preoccupied with suppressing baser instincts to notice, or care.  But not hoping _too_ much, because it simply didn't matter.

Remus came to him an hour later, just as the sun sinking in the sky had painted the world a brilliant red.  Severus was standing in the ocean, his trousers soaked to the knees.  Remus had seen his lips moving when he spotted the man from the porch, but Severus was silent when he reached him, and he was still.

"Didn't you want to cook us something?" Remus asked loudly, hoping to startle Severus out of whatever this was.

"Yes."

"Then come inside."

"Don't tell me what to do," Severus protested wearily.  No conviction.  It was something Remus would have to drive into him.

"You didn't even take your shoes off, did you?" Remus sighed.

"Oh, and what _shall_ we do?  A drying charm is _so_ tedious," Snape snarled.

"It is when you don't have a wand."

That got Severus's attention.

"I do.  It's just hidden."

"So how will you manage this elusive drying charm?"

"I'll buy it off you," Severus answered with a casual shrug of his shoulders.  It was almost as alarming as the fact that he was standing fully clothed in the ocean, this casualness.

"What will you give me?" Remus asked slowly, knowing this could go nowhere good.

"This is the question, isn't it?  And the answer is always 'everything'.  So, everything, Lupin.  Everything."

"Don't treat yourself so cheaply," Remus replied impatiently.  If Severus was allowed to be out of character, he would be too.  "Get out of the water and cook us something to eat."

"Your loss.  I'm an excellent lay," Severus sighed, slowly walking out of the sea.

"I know."

"Yes.  I let myself forget, sometimes, that I left that part of me with you."

"I've kept it safe, Severus."

"You are an idiot.  Dry my shoes."

Remus complied just before they entered the lighthouse, wanting, Severus suspected, to spare the woman of the house the hassle of cleaning hardwood floors.  He was even so kind as to dry the rest of him, something Severus was grateful for.  Despite what his students, and even some of his colleagues, might have said, he was not impervious to coldness.  In fact, he rather believed that was one feeling one never grew accustomed to, no matter how long one lived in it.  He was perpetually cold it seemed, and it never ceased burning him.

"Hmm," he heard Remus saying from the kitchen, "it seems as if we're unprepared for even the most modest of feasts."

"It wouldn't take much," Severus answered, joining his chaperone in hunting through the pantry.

"It's all tins.  Tinned pastas, tinned puddings, tinned vegetables…doesn't exactly whet the appetite, does it?" Remus asked.  "Fancy a walk to the store?"

"Not particularly, no."

"You'll be fine on your own for a few minutes," Remus said.  Severus was glad it was a statement of fact.  Not a question. Not a command.  Because, really, he had no answers, and even less will to disobey.

"I doubt they'll have fresh rosemary here, but try, will you?"

Once Remus had gone, Severus sat down at the table and gave in to the pressing weight he'd felt for hours.  And not even the Light Keeper's hand-stitched table cloth could absorb the oceans that he wrung from himself.

@@@

When Remus walked through the door, Severus was sitting at the table still, so still, face white and glistening under a thin layer of sweat as he dug the paring knife into his own flesh.  The metal smell of blood, the sight of it all blooming on the white cloth, of the flesh Severus was carving away, was nearly enough to make Remus retch.  But not before he raced across the room and smacked the blade out of the man's hand, earning himself a nice slice in the palm for his trouble.  A brief irrational worry about cross-contamination floated through his mind but could not stay in a place filled with the sight of…this.

"Severus…"

"He said weeks, Remus.  _Weeks_," Severus sobbed.

"No."

"I have to…I have to go.  I can't not…I have to go."  Severus stopped what he was doing, and realized what that was.  Looking down at his arm, at the gaping hole he'd carved trying to excavate his Dark Mark, and for what?  It was still there, in the muscles and connective tissue of his forearm.  He couldn't help but laugh.  He was laughing, laughing, and what would his Master say?  _Oh Severus, don't you know that some scars never fade?_

"Don't, please.  Severus, please!"  Remus was becoming hysterical with fright, but it wasn't clear to either of them exactly which of them he was most frightened for.  Severus put his hand over the wound.

"Wait for me.  Here.  Will you?"

"Yes, anything."  Calmer now that he had a manageable task.

"I'll come back here, only wait for me, Remus.  Oh god, he's going to…"

"Here, let me heal that."

"No!  No, just…just leave it.  I have to be stingy with my lies.  In fact," Severus broke off, bending down quickly, and before Remus could stop him, he had recovered the knife and stabbed it into his wrist.  It was a kind of madness, or weakness, that Voldemort would find more treacherous than the defacing of his Mark.  It would draw attention away from his betrayal.  And it felt good, but Severus wouldn't let himself dwell on that.  

"Severus!  Fuck, Sever – ,"

"It's fine," Severus sighed.  "It's not real.  It's fine.  Remus, you'll be here?"

"Yes."

"Fine.  Good.  I'm going."

"I'll be here."

"Good."

A/N:  I know, I know.  Feel free to stone me…terrible cliff hanger there.  But really, it was the best place to break up the chapter.  And I do have the next one written…so maybe if I get lots of lovely reviews, I'll break my rule and post the next one soon, as a Xmas prezzie perhaps.  But don't worry, I'm not ransoming my fic for reviews.  

**Speaking of reviews, thanks to the following for the inspirational praise – **

**DumbOldDork – it's nice to have a "regular"**

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**The Treacle Tart**

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**Arafel2**

**NeuroticSquirrel**

**JennyRad**

**Happy holidays everyone!**


	6. six

A/N:  I'm really sorry that I didn't get this chapter out sooner, like I planned, but I got a bad cold that knocked me out for a few days and I couldn't find it in me to finish chapter 7.  But as reward for all you lovely people (especially reviewers! Hint hint) I included…well…not "fluff" per se, but some definite moments of levity in the next chapter, to make up for all the angst.  Anyhoo, enjoy!  Review! 

****

Last time… 

"It's fine," Severus sighed.  "It's not real.  It's fine.  Remus, you'll be here?"

"Yes."

"Fine.  Good.  I'm going."

"I'll be here."

"Good."

@@@

But it wasn't good, and Remus knew it.  He knew it for the seven hours he stood at the window, waiting.  Waiting.  Until he didn't know what he was waiting for.  A broken man?  A body?  Or something glorious.  He could believe in the glorious, in the light, in the healing miracle.  He felt he was going mad, that when he'd cut himself with the bloody knife, and grabbed Severus with all the tender rage he could no longer contain, maybe, maybe his lycanthropy had flowed out of that wound and the madness of the other man had flowed in, a communion of weakness.  No, of weakening.  Severus was not weak, not because of this.  And Remus, he knew he was not weak, not very.  And if he was, it was not due to his being a beast.  If he was weak, it was his own fault.

Remus stood at the window until he could stand no more.  He was about to Firecall Dumbledore, a last resort these days, with the breach in security at Hogwarts encompassing all forms of magical communication, when he saw him, Severus, a dark point in the even darker night.  He was walking, and Remus nearly cried in joy for that.

"Severus!" he shouted instead, rushing from the lighthouse to help the man.

"A little louder, please, I don't think the mainland heard you," Severus answered.  His voice was hoarse, and Remus couldn't help but assume that was due to screaming.  But the smile on Severus's face…maybe it was laughing.  Hysterical laughing.  It was more frightening, more heartbreaking than the alternative.

"Let's get you inside," Remus said, trying to grab hold of Severus's elbow, but the Potions Master would have none of it.

"I wouldn't," he warned Remus.  "I really wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Dirty," Severus answered, curt.

"Severus, whatever they did - ,"

"Not _me_, Lupin," he snapped.  "The bloody _shirt_ is dirty."

It was, covered in what looked like mud.  It was only then that Remus realized Severus had not left in his Death Eater garb.  He was still dressed in Muggle clothes.

"Then let's get you inside and cleaned," Remus responded.

"Oh yes, lets.  Such an easy thing to do," Severus sneered.

"I know.  The elusive drying charm," Remus smiled.

Once they were inside, in the light, Remus could see that Severus did not look much worse off than he had hours earlier.  In fact, he looked remarkably better, his wounds having been healed, he carefully observed.

"Not by me," Severus answered, peeling off his soiled shirt and sitting down on the sofa.  "It was a stupid thing to do, surrendering my wand."

"Fuck," Remus hissed.  He'd sent him out there, alone, defenseless, or as good as. He hadn't even thought, both of them hadn't.

"Mmm," Severus agreed.

"Severus, tell me what happened,"  Remus said, wary of the apathy his companion projected.  

"Lupin, have you ever tried to Apparate with no clear destination in mind?" Severus asked, folding his arms over his chest, just cognizant of just what he was revealing.

"Of course not," Remus answered, handing Severus freshly brewed tea.  "You'd splinch yourself."

"Yes.  Yes.  But here I am, whole.  More or less."

"Severus, what _happened_?"

"You just go, just disappear," Severus continued, as if he were alone, as if he had forgotten Remus even existed.  Or that _he_ even existed.  "You feel the pain, if you're lucky enough to feel it anymore, through all the other hurts in your life, and you just think, 'nothing, nothing'.  'Just let me disappear,' you think, and you do.  You follow the thread, the chain.  The leash.  It'll lead you to your master, and you will have arrived at his feet like the dog you are.  Only not at all proud.  Black, he was a dog but he was proud, and I never forgave him that.  But I…I just disappear and think of nothing and try to feel nothing and I become supplicant at my master's feet.  You do this, every time you feel the pain you do this, close your eyes, pretend it's all for the best that you go.  And you go.  But I…I was sitting at the table and…ever since my hand, I haven't felt anything.  At all, except cold, and a little nauseous on the boat ride, and something…something when I looked at you sometimes.  But I was sitting at the table and something hurt.  Thinking now…maybe it was a muscle cramp, from standing so long in the sea.  But I felt pain and I looked down and there was the knife, and there was my Dark Mark, and I thought, I swear I thought I was being called, Remus.  But I wasn't.  I was so so scared but I Apparated and the mark was supposed to lead me to him, I didn't even have to think, just disappear, which is easier than you know.  And…how long have I been gone?  The sun was down by the time I materialized.  And I looked around, I looked around and Remus it was so…it was so…Remus – ," he broke off, choked by panic and so much _hurt_ that he couldn't go on.

Arms wrapped around him, pulled him into something warm, something humming.  Remus was humming, no, whispering.  Into the hair just behind his ear.  Saying _shhh, Severus, I'm here.  You're with me here.  Shhh_.  

"I'm sorry I stayed away so long," Severus cried.  "I remembered, sometime, that you were waiting.  But Remus, I thought of Nothing and you wouldn't believe where I ended up."

"Where?"

"Home.  I was home."

"Snape Manor?" Remus asked, frowning.

"No," Severus answered.  He was laughing again, softly this time, but laughing, and that was never a good thing these days.  

"Severus?" 

"Hogwarts."

"That's…you couldn't have."

"I know, but I did.  Ended up at the feet of another master."

"You apparated to Dumbledore's office?" Remus asked, unable to believe that the Headmaster would have neglected to contact him if that was the case.

"No, I was in the dungeons, in my lab.  I disappeared and thought of nothing and of pain and of nothing and I disappeared and whatever I am floated about the country for hours, bouncing off every surface it met on the way, and I ended up at Hogwarts.  I broke through wards a millennium old.  Now that I say this, we should probably _Obliviate_ each other, to keep that knowledge safe.  But Remus, I…I don't like that I ended up there.  Not when I was thinking…"

"What happened, when you materialized?" Remus asked, not wanting to address the fact that 'nothing' had translated to 'home' for this man,  not knowing how to begin to talk about that.

"I heard screaming.  And I ran.  I ran until I got outside and then I ran into the forest.  It was the owls, screaming.  And the thestrals.  It's a laughable defense system, for when the unthinkable happens.  Hogwarts' security wards, breeched.  But maybe that was their instinct, to scream.  To hunt.  The owls flew at me from behind, the thestrals poured from the forest, but I was so focused on not being torn apart by _carrier pigeons_ that I ran to the thestrals, head on," Severus finished, bitterly.

"Why didn't you go to the hospital wing, to be healed?" Remus asked.  

"I…I don't know.  I didn't want…I don't want Albus to know what I did."  Remus thought that he was referring to the break in the wards, but then he saw Severus look down at his arms, and he understood.

"Who closed the wounds?"

"Firenze.  He's not supposed to be in the forest, but he still sneaks in, from time to time.  Don't blame him.  Staying in the castle with little to do and only humans and Hagrid for company, I don't blame him one bit for wanting to escape.  It was little of me, but I used to tease him, before.  Called him Flo.  I wonder how he came to be named after Florence.  I should ask him, some day.  Do you know?" he asked Remus.

"He comes from an Italian line, Hagrid said.  He won't speak to me," Remus answered.

"Beyond the evasive astronomy?" Severus asked.

"No, at all.  He doesn't speak to werewolves."

"Don't worry," Severus smiled.  "It's not about being a monster.  He healed me.  And I don't think he'd tell anyone about it.  No, he won't.  It's a sin for centaurs to use the healing arts on humans."

"I know."

"Yes, I know.  Remus?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you.  For being here.  Like you said you would be."

"You're welcome," Remus answered, adding softly, "thank you for coming back."

"Is your hand alright?"

"Yes, it's fine," Remus answered, offering it to Severus.  He didn't take it.

"If it does happen, for real.  If I'm called, I'll need a wand."

"I know."

"And…I packed my robes, my mask.  You won't let me forget?"

"No, I won't let you forget."

"Good.  I'll never forget…but, I might."

"What?"

Severus shut his eyes.  He could still hear the screaming. So much screaming.  And hissing, but that was the sea.  He told himself that it was only the sea.

"People sometimes think the masks are blank, featureless, but they're not."

"I know," Remus replied.  "I remember, from…I remember.  They're stretched."

"Yes.  But they weren't made like that."  Then Severus stood and retreated into his room, coming out moments later, mask in hand.

"Meet Henry Doyle," he said, his voice without emotion, again.  His face too.  It was terrifying, so Remus looked away, looked at the mask, which represented more terror than even he could imagine, but it was still easier than looking at Severus's face.  The face that he remembered smiling, in his dreams.

The mask had features, or what could be called features.  A nose, a brow, thin lips stretched thinner.  Awkwardly shaped ears that were customarily covered by the black cloak's hood.

"Tradition," Severus explained, briefly casting his eyes to the picture frames that lined the wall, but they were darkened, too darkened to see.  "A young Death Eater has no mask.  It's a privilege earned only with a first kill, this precious anonymity.  Some incentive, isn't it?  I went without a mask for so long.  I can barely remember what that felt like, to…but then I killed Henry here.  Tradition calls that a death mask shall be made of the first kill.  But before it dries, you have to put it on, stretch it or squeeze it so it fits.  So the features go blurry, but you never forget their face anyway.  I can still see him, in this mask.  Doesn't matter what I've done, since.  All that matters was before."

"That's not true," Remus answered, putting the mask on the table.  "You've done more for our side, for _his_ side, than most.  You'll help us win this war, to save people like him.  His family.  He'd thank you for that."

"He had no family.  He died alone.  And he'd never thank me.  He was a Muggle.  It's not his war, it shouldn't have been his death."

"It's everyone's war, whether they know it or not," Remus rebutted.  "You must see that."

"Perhaps.  Thousands dead, to save millions.  Numbers, numbers.  Is this what we are dying for?" he asked.

"Partly.  But there are bigger things that we are dying for, Severus.  Great things."

"I thought we weren't allowed to bring worth into this," Severus frowned.  "It's why we hate Voldemort, isn't it?  The fact that he's trying to assign worth to human life.  Wizard is better than Muggle.  But we're not allowed to think like that, to think like him.  So we kill ourselves, by the hundreds, because we've authored this equation where you equal one and I equal one and Henry here, he equaled one.  And subtraction and addition and we cancel each other out sometimes but it's numbers numbers numbers and we pray that, in the end, the balance will be on our side.  Isn't this what we're fighting for?"

"No.  Severus, no.  Voldemort is fighting for hate, not numbers.  And we, we are fighting for…for the right thing.  I don't care what you say about perspective and…some things are immutable, I have to believe that, and…the right for everyone on this fucking planet to _live_, to find a place that is their own, to be their own person, not just the sum total of their parents' genes, to have an effect on the world, to bring in life, to be life, that is great and good and _right_.  And so worth dying for."

"It's ridiculous," Severus sighed.

"It's not."

"They'll never thank you for it, what you give up for them."

"They don't have to."

"And they'll never forgive me."

"Severus, they don't _have_ to." 

It went unspoken, the fact that Remus forgave him.  Things like this, they always went unspoken, for Severus.

"I am sorry, Remus."

"I know.  Me too."

"Our own little war, nearly won," Severus smiled.

"Yes, nearly."

A/N 2:  Thanks to… 

**DumbOldDork**

**The Treacle Tart**

**Lillinfields**

**Selke**

**Tradilien**

**Marie**

**Kira**

**Ilmare2**

**NeuroticSquirrel**

**Saavik13**

**Arafel2**

**Barbara Kennedy**


	7. 7

A/N:  Hi all.  Here's the sporadic disclaimer about JK Rowling owning Severus, Remus and company.  Sorry this is a short chapter.  You'd think things at the bookstore would calm down after the holidays, but noooo…anyway, here it is.  Shout outs to reviewers (only 6 for the last chapter.  Sniffle sniffle) at the end.  Oh, and a reminder that this story is SLASH.  So, hope you like this meager offering of much needed happiness.  

"Remus?  Remus?"

Severus woke up with a sharp pain in his neck.  He'd fallen asleep on the sofa, as had Remus, if he could go by the fast-dying warm spot on his side.  The man was crouching in front of the hearth at the moment, and Severus realized who had woken him up.  Albus was calling.

"No, no, he's fine.  It was…disconcerting, but he's well.  He's sleeping," he could hear Remus whisper.

"I'm glad he's able to.  I've been up all night, trying to figure out what exactly happened," Albus said.

"You didn't know immediately that it was him?" Remus asked.

"No, I knew the breech occurred in his dungeons, but beyond that, I knew nothing."

"How did you find out that it was Severus?"

"Hagrid saw him running into the forest.  He said that he was injured.  Are you certain he doesn't need medical attention?"

"Yes, he's fine Albus.  I've taken care of everything.  He slipped when he Apparated, cut his palms," Remus lied.

"How is he, otherwise?" 

Severus nearly laughed at that.  Dumbledore never was one for subtly.  

"Mad as a hatter," he said instead, startling the Headmaster, but Remus barely batted an eye, and Severus was sure the werewolf had heard him awaken.

"Severus, good morning," Albus greeted warmly.  Severus was sure there was a damned twinkle in his eye, but could not be certain with all the flames.

"Not very.  Is everyone in an uproar over there?"

"No one knows, other than Minerva and Alastor."

"And Hagrid," Severus reminded him, deciding to keep Firenze's involvement out of it.

"No, Hagrid doesn't," Albus corrected.

"I see.  And in a moment, we won't either, will we?" he asked coolly.  Severus hated memory charms, always had.  From the day he learned about them, he'd been torn between two equally terrifying thoughts:  That he'd once had a good, happy life that someone had erased with one spell, and that he could be weak enough, one day, to try to circumvent his atonement by removing the memory of his sins.  It was a horrid, horrid spell, as most necessary spells were.  

"Must you?" Remus asked.  "From what Severus has said, I doubt the experience could be replicated any time soon."

"What _did_ happen, Severus?" Albus asked, prompting the Potions Master to scowl at Remus with all the malice he could muster.

"It was nothing," he answered through gritted teeth.  "A fluke.  I won't talk about it."

"You may not have a choice," Albus said softly.

"I do have some experience with discretion," Severus sneered.

"It's a foolhardy gamble, my boy.  You've never objected to this course of action before."

"It's different this time!" Remus shouted, aware that he was shouting at his mentor and employer, but even more aware that the man beside him was probably breaking apart at the seams.  "If he knows enough about last night to ask _Severus_ about it, and Severus is unable to give him anything, he'll kill him.  He'll kill him this time."

"So, all the more reason.  Isn't that right?" Severus asked.  He didn't know what he was doing, being maudlin.  It wasn't him.  Brutally honest was him.  So, he didn't know what he was doing.

"Severus -," both Albus and Remus began, but Severus could hear the difference in those voices.  Albus sounded uncomfortable, regretful.  Maybe sad.  Remus, he just sounded terribly, terribly _pained_.  _Don't, for me_, Severus thought, but then, he did like the feel of that.

"Don't bother, Albus," Severus snapped.  "I'd expected to land at my master's feet, and so I did.  Do with me what you will.  I doubt it'd be any more painful for being unexpected."

"_Obliviate_."

Severus woke up with a sharp pain in his neck.  He'd fallen asleep on the sofa, and opened his eyes to see Remus standing over him, frowning.

"Lupin?"

"How do you feel?" Remus asked.

"Fine.  Tired.  It's light out.  Did I sleep through dinner?"

"No."

"Oh.  I see.  Did I do something…did I do anything unforgivable?"

"No."

"But Albus paid us a visit, yes?" Severus asked.  He'd felt this emptiness before, this particular gaping wound that itched just enough for you to notice it through all the other holes in your life.  Once in Charms class years ago, and then a half-dozen times in his duties as spy.  Most people never noticed it, which was the point exactly, but he always had.  Maybe because he was so tenacious.  So stubborn.  So unwilling to let things go.  

"Yes.  'For the good of the Order,'" Remus snarled.

"And for my own, no doubt," Severus half-smiled.  "So there you stand, with another dirty secret."

"He said that I'd be less likely to share the information," Remus admitted uncomfortably.

"Not being on intimate terms with Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"I know you have almost as many years of experience in subterfuge as I, Lupin, but perhaps you missed the lesson where they teach you _not_ to inform people that they've had their memories altered."

"It wasn't right.  Or necessary."

"It's not your place to judge."

"No, it's yours, and you didn't agree with the decision either."

Severus looked hard at Remus, had the sternness he projected, at the fight in his eyes, and knew.

"You're lying."

"No."

"Remus."

"You…you just gave up.  You had a hard night and you weren't prepared to…you just _gave up_, Severus," Remus keened.

"It does happen," Severus answered softly.  He was unaccustomed to someone being indignant on his behalf.  

"Do you want to know what happened?" Remus asked.

"Is it something the Dark Lord will expect me to know?"

"Probably."

"Is it something he'd want to know more about?"

"Definitely."

"Then, no, Remus.  No."

Remus sat down on the sofa beside him, stretched out his legs and stared hard at his feet.

"You don't remember, but some things were said between us, last night, that meant a great deal to me."

"Don't," Severus warned. "It's not fair."

"It wasn't any profession of love," Remus laughed.

"I should hope not."

"You did say you were sorry."

"Sorry?"

"And about Henry."

"Henry?"

"And that you wear pink briefs."

"Lupin."

"And your middle name is Fanny."

"Lupin."

"And you enjoy a good bubble bath."

"I thought I never bathed?"

"Oh you do, and you sing while you do.  And you have a rather racy dressing gown."

"Christ, your moods are more erratic than mine," Severus sighed, struggling not to give in and laugh.

"Well," Remus shrugged, "you won't let me tell you anything important."

"There will be time enough, later," Severus answered.  He wasn't sure anymore if he was lying, but for the first time in what felt like years, he hoped he wasn't.

"Feel like eating?"

"Yes."

"Good.  I'll take my tea with cream and two sugars."

"Lazy twat."

"Just delegating responsibility to the person most suited for the task."

"Yes, I so look like a house elf," Severus sneered.

"No, but I _could_ picture you in a French maid's getup," Remus grinned.

"Lupin."

"Or a -,"

"I _swear_, Remus, if the words 'hat topped by a stuffed vulture' come out of your mouth, I'll hex you so hard that you'll spend the rest of your natural life trying to untie the knots in your mangled entrails!"

"Or a headpiece with a winged, taxidermal carrion-consumer motif."

"That's it," Severus hissed, before launching himself at the werewolf.  

Neither of them could count the minutes, or hours, spent playing like children, running about the house, knocking over family memorabilia and hastily repairing the damage, shrieking in playful anger, frustration, and maybe, for a few brief moments, unmitigated joy, but at the end of it all, Severus found himself sprawled out on the floor, panting, smiling, and wondering how he'd gotten his wand back, and Remus found himself wondering how long it would take to pick all of those vulture feathers out of his teeth.

**Well, I had fun.  Hope you did too.  Thanks to the following people:**

**Saavik13**

**Rem-cycle : welcome aboard!**

**N Snape**

**Lillinfields**

**NeuroticSquirrel**

**Arafel2**


	8. eight

A/N: This is to warn that the story is, very obviously, RL/SS SLASH at this point.  And the characters belong to J.K. Rowling.  Please stick around after the end of this chapter for an important note from the Author.

Hysterical laughing.

"Severus?"

"Sorry, sorry, ticklish just there."

"That's new.  Here?"

Hysterical laughing.

"Stop, stop…oh, don't stop!"

"So fickle."

"Ungh."

"And eloquent."

"_Fuck_."

"I'm trying."

"Oh do shut up.  You were never such a…hhh…talker."

"There was always the chance of being overheard."

"Oh…just…there.  Ow, shit."

"What?"

"Bit my tongue."

"Let me kiss it, make it better."

"God, you really are too sentimental."

"Mmm."

"Move your hips.  God, you're bony."

"Ha!  You're one to talk!"

"I'm wiry.  Shut up.  You just feel starved."

"Malnourished."

"Because of…ohfuckohfuckjustthere…because of the Changes?"

"Because of years of borderline poverty.  Let's change the subject."

"Ungh."

Hysterical laughing.

"Shut up, Remus.  God, this is taking forever."

"Now who's being sentimental?"

"No, no, it's nice.  But it's taking forever."

"In a hurry to be somewhere?"

"No."

"Good."

The days had flowed into each other during their sabbatical, days filled with quiet words, sunning, reading, a few shouting matches, and even more awkward silences, the closer each came to being comfortable in the other's presence.  It would be so easy, so tempting, to fall back into their old routine.   Either routine.  That of being lovers, or that of being enemies.  But it was a small island, a dreadfully peaceful place, and boring beyond all belief for two grown men accustomed to nearly unbearable challenges.  That is how they found themselves, two days before they were to return to work, fairly pasted to each other in the bed Severus had claimed, loosely holding each other, avoiding questions and the other's eyes.  It was ridiculous, Severus mused, that he should feel so…fragile.  If he had put much value on this physical act, he reasoned, he wouldn't have fell into it with little caution, or even deliberation.  Granted, he had wanted, on some level, to have Remus, to possess him in this way, for months.  Years even, if he was honest with himself.  Some of that longing had been a kind of darkness, an ugliness in him.  He'd wanted to _fuck_ Remus, all bodies and sweat and cum and maybe, maybe even blood.  Nothing violent.  No, Severus wouldn't wish that on him, not for anything.  But, in his weakest hours, when he just been healed from the most sullying of punishments, and his mind inevitably turned to a fruitless wish to be held by less malevolent arms, his reaction would be, nine times out of ten, to fantasize about the one person who may have been able to comfort him in that intimate way, and to dream about _ripping him apart_, just so someone else in this sordid fairy tale would feel a tenth of what he did.  But not all of his wants concerning Remus Lupin had been colored by what he now conceptualized his psychosis.  Some nights, when he was alone, and increasingly since Remus had come back into his life, he would remember the warmth of the man.  And he would appreciate his present humor, his careless kindness, his willingness to forgive, his determination to get on with his life, despite all obstacles and all manner of people telling him that he wasn't worth it.  Severus appreciated his tenacity, and, being warm-blooded, and lonely, and all those _human_ things that his students would always refuse to see in him, he also appreciated the gentle face, the expressive eyes, the slim build.  The man.  And the memories of the man's body.

So why did he feel…anything?  Did he feel anything?  They had had a nice afternoon touring the island one last time.  They had cooked on the beach, on a grill, and Severus had allowed himself to laugh with Remus at their failures when faced with the wind and sand and birds.  They had played Muggle chess.  They had argued about music and then what television program to put on to distract them.  They had recalled a "date" they'd had when they were younger, a tryst that was nearly discovered by Minerva.  And glances were thrown, and silent invitations to touch issued and accepted, and what had seemed an impossibility weeks before was suddenly an inevitability and it happened.  But now, Severus was wondering what had possessed him to throw in with a werewolf that had been proven a danger to his sanity.  He didn't know what Remus was thinking, and that annoyed him even more.  Even more than the awkward quiet, and even more than the fact that he was feeling, and acting, less and less like himself each day.

"I didn't think it could be like this," Remus said softly, the first to break the silence.

"How do you mean?"

"You…I don't know.  I thought, after…everything…that this would be harder for you.  Us," he answered lamely, broadly gesturing to the bed, their bodies, their sweat.  The act.

"Didn't you think it would loosen me up?" Severus countered sharply, knowing that he was taking it wrongly but disgusted all the same by this enduring trait in Lupin to automatically assume that, just because it was within his power to destroy someone with a single act, it was always his fault.  And to ask the important questions too late.

Remus just sighed and pried his arm from beneath Severus's back.  

"Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities," Severus continued, knowing that this was in character, this systematic destruction of every bit of happiness and calm that condescended to associate with the pathetic creature he was.  "If you object to being associated with a _whore_ then I suggest you look elsewhere.  Don't worry about me, I've a whole line of people ready to fuck me, some with bigger cocks and more knowledge of how to use them.  Granted, they aren't alive come morning, but it's a long line, believe you me.  You aren't doing me any favors."

"Are you done?"

"Yes."

And then Remus's tongue was in his mouth, his hands running through his hair, fingers flexing, petting.  And then, Remus's head was flinging back and a spray of blood arching up, and pain shooting up Severus's arm, spreading from his knuckles.

"Shit!" Remus hissed through fingers, his hand cupping his mouth, tentatively feeling out his split lip.

Severus just buried his face in his hands and drew his knees to his chest, not caring that the sheet fell away, that he was naked and incredibly vulnerable beside a man who he had just made his enemy.  He didn't care because he saw blood and felt the burn in his ass and he was back in those meeting halls with black robes and sibilant laughs and glazed eyes staring at him as if he was nothing, because he _was_ nothing, he wasn't even there, he was a hole to them, and they'd wake and they'd be sorry and they'd be dead but he was still nothing.

The sun was lower in the sky when he could see light again.  He was still curled into himself on the bed, but Remus had obviously lied him on his side and covered him up, had cast a cleaning charm or even wiped him down with a damp cloth.  He was dry now, clean, warm.  A far cry from where his mind had taken him that time.

"You know," came Remus's quiet, hoarse voice from the shadows, "most of the mistakes of my life, they were because I failed to act.  I've never actively fucked up before."

Severus wanted to comfort him.  He didn't know why, and really, he didn't know how, but he still wanted to.  Only, he couldn't.  He couldn't speak.  So Remus went on.

"I don't know what I expected.  No, I expected you to refuse me.  I wanted…I wanted you.  Not just the Severus I remembered, but _you_.  As you are.  But…I don't know, Severus.  I thought you'd do what you thought best, for yourself.  Which is where I fucked up, apparently, because when have you _ever_ done what's best for you?  You, you always take the hard road.  And you've done it this time, by God.  I've never been someone's hard road before.  At least, I don't think I have.  I've never really been anyone's anything before.  Or since…since you.  Do you have any idea what I'm saying?  Because I don't.  I don't.  It wasn't my decision to make, whether you were ready for this or not, but maybe I should have made it.  You wouldn't have thanked me for it, but…tell me what to do here, Severus.  I care about you.  I enjoy being with you, when you _are_ with me.  I'd like to be with you more.  I'd like to go back to the school and know that I can come by your rooms sometime and talk about things and be as close to you as you let me.  I'd like to be there for you, too.  But I don't want to be a complication in your life, or a punishment, or a liability.  So.  Tell me what to do."

Remus was hovering near his side of the bed, Severus noticed.  He noticed that it had become "his side of the bed" in his mind, something of an indication that things had already progressed beyond what he'd normally be comfortable with.  But then, he thought of all the things that he _was_ comfortable with.  Dark rooms.  Stone walls.  Hatred.  Fear.  Pain.  These things had become constants for him, familiars.  Dumbledore had always warned him, but he'd never realized just how much he'd come to depend on these…carcinogens.  They were always there, they kept him safe, and they demanded nothing of him other than his company.  It was such a cowardly way of life.  Severus had never realized.  He'd never…

"Sit down," he sighed, breaking off his thoughts to ease the wariness in Remus's eyes that he'd only just noticed.  What did he feel for this man?  They got on well enough, when sequestered from the many roles they were asked to play.  They both had an affinity for academia.  They'd loved each other, once, in the way of adolescents.  Play love, desperate for the real thing, but it was closer to _anything_ worthy than Severus had come since.  And Remus was kind.  And he had a soft face, softer eyes.  Strong hands.  And if he had enough patience and fortitude to survive a friendship with Black, he just may be able to weather a relationship with him.  But Severus had left certain things too late, and he didn't know how to rectify his failings, except to eviscerate himself and let Remus deal with the fallout.  So he pulled himself up, waited for Remus to sit down on the edge of the bed, and began.

"You wanted me to talk to you about my last meeting.  You wished for it, but I wouldn't, not because I was unwilling to think about it, but because I did not want to forever be this broken man in your mind's eye.  No matter how things ended between us, years ago, or how we've changed, a part of me always hoped that, some days, you could close your eyes and see me as a better person than I am right now.  But now, well, you've seen me like this.  So I have to tell you what happened, or you'll imagine the worst, when really, it's not.  It's not.  You seem to be focused on the rapes.  Maybe that's a normal reaction, from your position, but…when these things happen, it's only pain. It's easy for me…you must be able to imagine how easy it is for me to make _everything_ about pain.  There's no…emotion to it.  No, sometimes, there is.  Sometimes, I can't help but feel…raped.  But most times, it's only physical pain, because I know that no one is taking away anything from me.  I chose this life, Remus.  I _choose_ it.  I made a decision, a moral stand, and a commitment to certain beliefs, and I put everything I am on the line to defend these things I believe in.  I _do_ know what this war is, despite what I may have said.  And because I go into these situations knowing that it's probable that…unpleasant things will be put upon me, I am _not_ being robbed of anything.  It's _my_ choice.  And most nights, I remember that.  My reaction to the last meeting…it wasn't about rape.  It was about this growing trend of pain and memories, this habit of my mind to recall certain things based on visual prompts.  Lately, as I attend more and more meetings and come home battered, I can connect certain things that I see, at night, to memories that I've always thought…incorruptible.  Seeing my hands like that…this whole life I have, good and bad, I've built with my _hands_.  And there was that damned animated skeleton, which I'd found amusing, and there was that time when my mother said I had beautiful hands, and there were all the memories of…touching.  Touching you, especially.  Juxtaposing joy with such…brutality…I don't know.  It cracked me.  Overloaded my senses, I suppose.  Just like this evening, being in a…good moment, with you, and then I had to open my mouth and you had to push a little too far and I hit you and saw blood and I…I remembered times when it wasn't _just_ pain, it was real and invasive and frightening, and jumping from being loved to being raped, so suddenly, it…it cracked me, again.  I think…I think I'll be back to myself once I find a way to stay in _one_ place.  Right now, I feel like I'm on that fucking boat again, on the ocean, tossed in the waves.  I feel powerless, and I can't go into those damned meetings feeling like that, because then I _will_ be powerless.  And if that happens, I'll never come back.  It'll be over.  I just need to…I need to be anchored to the moments I want to remember, but able to move off to a place of no memory, when the storm comes in."

"Tell me what to do," Remus repeated softly, not letting Severus take the easy way out, though God knows what was easy about what he'd just done.

"Hold on to me," Severus answered, unable to keep from sounding ashamed by his need.  His want.  But Remus forgave him that, as he knew he would, and settled into the bed just behind him, wrapping his arm loosely about his waist and fitting his forehead against the base of his neck.  When he whispered, it was low and warm and cold all at once, and it made Severus grip his hand in his own, pulling it up to his heart.  

"I've got you."

**End of Part One!**

**A/N:  Yes, end of Part I.  It seemed the best place to wrap this up.  I am working on the second segment of this story, which begins with our boys returning to Hogwarts and their everyday lives.  And I do plan to post again soon, once I have a few more chapters under my belt, as long as there is a DEMAND for more.  If not, well, I'll probably write the bloody thing anyway, because that's what I do, but it'll take a long long time.  And I do realize that there are several issues in this story line that need resolving, or at least more consideration, but, like I said…this was the best place to take a pause.  A Caesura, if you will.**

**So review!  Like these lovely people, to whom I extend my sincere gratitude:**

**Bright Phoenix**

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**Kira**

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**Saavik13**

**Arafel2**


	9. Part TwoA

A/N:  Here is the first half of the concluding segment of "Casting Off Shadows".  The second half is written and will be posted soon.  And what happened to my reviews???  I feel unloved.

**Seriously though, J.K. Rowling owns the characters, and they own my heart and imagination.  This is RL/SS SLASH and is rated R for sexuality, violence, and language.**

**Part Two**

"I'm glad to see that some things have not changed in my absence.  Still utterly incompetent.  20 points from Gryffindor, Potter, and you will stay and clean up this mess.  Everyone else, get out."

Severus and Remus had returned to Hogwarts that morning and, after a brief meeting with Dumbledore, a thinly disguised attempt to assess his sanity, he had resumed his classes.  It had been a quiet day, and not only because he couldn't muster enough indignation and frustration to scare the whelps out of their wits.  He was sure, however, that it would come after a few more sessions with the Potter boy.  It was a miracle that he had passed his O.W.L in Potions, or a curse rather.  Severus had to admit that he had improved over the years, but he was still capable of destroying cauldrons when hard pressed.  At least Longbottom was out of his hair, something Severus was extremely grateful for.  And Potter, for all his bravado, had undoubtedly matured these last few years following the death of Black.

Once Potter was done rectifying the havoc he'd caused, Severus dismissed him, along with all thoughts about work, and retreated to his rooms.  Throwing himself onto his couch, he tried not to think about the light and warmth of the island, tried not to think about things that were now out of his reach.  But that left him with what he did have, which was the prospect of returning to Voldemort and more torture, and he wasn't ready.  He knew he wasn't ready.  He had nothing to give the bastard anymore.  He was useless.  One more failure, and he was dead.  He knew it, but that wouldn't keep him from going when called.  As long as Dumbledore expected it from him, he'd always go.  It didn't matter that he now had something to lose.  

Severus remained where he was for hours, not caring enough to go to the Great Hall for dinner.  As he'd expected, there was soon a knock on his door.  Remus, bringing him sustenance.  

"How were your classes?" Remus asked, setting the plate on the coffee table and sitting beside him.

"Tolerable.  The students were obviously disappointed to see me back.  It's comforting that the hate is such a constant," Severus answered lightly, picking at the food before him.

"Stop being maudlin and eat your food," Remus laughed, trailing his hand over Severus's back.  Severus tried, half-successfully, to repress his urge to pull away, or shudder, at the contact.  It was something he would have to become acclimated to, this casual touch.  Among other things.

"What did Albus say?" Severus asked later.

"Very little," Remus sighed.  "He expressed his concern for you, and asked for my assessment of your fitness to return to your duties."

"Which duties?" Severus sneered.

"You know which duties," Remus answered calmly.  

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him that I wasn't prepared to answer."

"Why?" Severus asked, genuinely uncertain about Remus's motivation.

"Because…because there was no way to answer that question without…hurting you," Remus answered, his anger and frustration fading to embarrassment and impotence within the span of one sentence.

"It's not your job to protect me from my life," Severus answered slowly, through gritted teeth.  It wouldn't do to yell at the man for his concern, even if that was his first instinct.

"I can't help but try," Remus whispered.

"Did you tell him about our…arrangement?" Severus asked, shying away from calling whatever this thing was between them a "relationship".

"No, but I'm sure he'll find out, if he doesn't know already," Remus groused.  And then, "When do you think you'll be summoned?"

"Tonight, most likely.  He knows I'm back," Severus sighed, rubbing his eyes and leaning back against Remus's arm.

"What will you tell him?"

"The truth where I can.  He'll know that you came with me and lying about your reasons would be futile.  You were my chaperone.  I'll leave it at that, and hope it's enough."

"Yes, but what will you _tell_ him?  You have to give him something."

"No, he won't really expect me to have anything for him, when I've been away.  If he asks, it'll only be a pretense for whatever he plans to do to me."

They were quiet for some time, looking into the fire, waiting, for different things.  Remus was waiting for Severus to be summoned, and Severus, he was waiting for Remus to ask the question.  To ask him to stay.

"Severus…" Remus began, and as much as Severus wished he could hear it out and do the logical thing, as was his custom, in this, there was no logic.  Only what was right.

"Don't ask, Remus," he warned wearily.  "Save us both the pain, and don't ask."

"Fine.  Fine.  Do you want me to…wait with you?" Remus asked, his voice so innocently hopeful that it drew Severus closer, laying his head on the man's broad chest.

"As long as you keep your mouth shut when the time comes," Severus casually answered, not caring that his movement belied his emotion.

"What, no tearful goodbyes and declarations of love?" Remus laughed softly.  "No wishes of luck?"  His muscles were taught, practically jumping with tension, and the hand slowly rubbing Severus's upper arm was trembling, slightly, but it was there.

"Perish the thought," Severus answered lightly.

They sat there quietly with each other, and when Severus's arm burned and he hissed from the pain, Remus only saw him to the door, squeezed his hand, stared at him with such intensity as betrayed all the pain and love and fear and regret he'd ever felt in his entire life, and walked away first, so he wouldn't have to watch Severus leave.  It was what Severus had wanted, but he couldn't help but hate the man for being able to pull it off.

Severus did not come home broken that night.  He was not beaten, not raped.  In fact, he'd been largely ignored throughout the brief meeting, a mark of his uselessness.  In his younger days, he may have been offended by the snub.  He was now, in effect, a junior Death Eater, a warm body that could be useful in a battle, but of no tactical advantage.  Severus would not have credited Voldemort with the patience, or common sense, to spare him for the "greater good of pure-blooded superiority", but the fact remained that Severus returned to Hogwarts that night without a scratch on him.  It was a trend that continued for two months, with the exception of a few rounds with _Crucio _when plans fell through, when victories were too small, and when Severus had been unable to address a rumor that someone had broken through Hogwarts' wards, a possibility that Severus found laughably improbable.  It would take a wizard as powerful as Albus Dumbledore himself to get through those wards.

That night, when Severus returned to his rooms and summoned Remus to show him that he was relatively unscathed and to tell him what he'd learned, he was met with a fierce anger, not directed at him, and unbridled passion, which, thankfully, was.  The two men had continued their arrangement all this time, and it was undoubtedly a relationship at this point, though both had been wary of defining it as such.  Severus was uncertain of the course of Remus's hesitation to make sentimental declarations, remembering that he'd been the first, years ago, to tell Severus that he loved him.  For his part, Severus viewed it as a matter of pride, as if admitting to loving the man, which he unquestionably did, was to admit a crippling weakness.  The part of himself that harbored delusions of being a good man was convinced that he was keeping Remus safe from outside influences that might seek to use him as a vulnerability to a generally stoic man.  But in truth, Severus was simply telling himself that he was not in love to save himself the pain when it all ended.

These were not comforting thoughts, but the feel of Remus trying to catch his breath, and the feel of his sweat-slicked hand rubbing circles in his back, as they lay in his bed that night, were more than enough to put him at ease.  Until Remus had to open his mouth and spoil the whole thing.

"It can't be just sex between us," he practically growled, something he'd been doing all night, since he'd heard about Voldemort questioning the security of Hogwarts' wards.  Severus had known immediately that Remus was hiding something, and he briefly remembered the night at the light house, the memory charm, but, as was the point with memory charms, there was nothing to remember.  Still, he had been surprised by the urgency with which Remus had taken him that night, and even more surprised that Remus was now calling for something more than sex, when what they'd just done to each other had little to do with emotions, only a fierce, near-violent need to hold on to each other and come.

"There's a past here, issues we both have with each other," Remus continued and, when he felt Severus stiffen with tension, he added, "You don't trust me."

"No, and you don't like me," Severus sneered, pushing himself away from Remus.  He'd be damned if he'd have this conversation while _cuddling_.

"That's not true and you know it," Remus said calmly, but Severus didn't have to be skilled in Legilimency to see that the man was raging inside, and he couldn't help but smirk at that.

"Fine.  I'm too tired to argue," Severus answered curtly.  It was the truth, but still, he felt as if he was backing down from a challenge, something he tried never to do.  "What is your issue with me?"

"That…that you might not be enough," Remus answered, begging Severus with his eyes to understand.  It was a futile hope.

"I'm not demanding monogamy here, Lupin," Severus sneered.  "If you need to fuck someone else on the side…"

"Severus, stop assuming the worst of me, and twisting my words when you know god damn well that I…listen, when you think of me, what comes to mind?"

"I don't know what you mean," Severus answered.

"Just…do you look at me and see…a werewolf?  The bastard that took a job you wanted?  The dissembling idiot that always gets away with things?  The 15-year-old shit that broke your heart?  What do you _see_?" Remus asked desperately.

"Everything.  All of it, and…I see _you_, Remus.  I do.  Only, the rest of it is there as well, and nothing you do will change that."

Remus looked at him for a heartbeat, taking in this honesty and openness that was always hard-earned from this man.   It made him tired, fighting for it all these months.  But Remus looked at him, and knew it was worth it.  Severus was worth almost everything.  "Well, I'm glad I suppose, because it's all true, isn't it?  And I'm happy to be all of it, all of me.  For you.  But you…will you ever be so whole, for me?" Remus asked softly.  This was what it came to, really.  How much they were willing to give.  It's what it always came to, for them both.

"I…" Severus began, but Remus didn't have the strength to hear what would follow.  He'd seen Severus's eyes shutter, and his Gryffindor courage failed him, as it often did when it came to this man, and he interrupted his lover before anything could be said that would take something away from him that he needed more and more every day.

"I'm sorry," he said, quickly.  "It's too much to ask, when you…when you've been hiding various parts of yourself half of your life, but…"  And then his strength came back to him, as he realized how _important_ it was to him.  How important Severus was to him.  "Severus, it's what I need.  Everything I need…it's in you."

"How can you be so sure?" Severus asked, damning his voice for not being derisive or cruel, when he thought Remus was being incredibly naïve and sentimental.  But his voice betrayed him, and his question sounded so scared, so pleading.  So needful.

"Look at us.  For fuck's sake, just look!  We have quiet mornings, tea and scones and warmth, and talk of all things.  We have openness, or what passes for it in our circumstances.  We have space.  We are separate, you know me, you…you make me want…you make me _want_.  Christ, I want to be encompassed by you half the time.  And, you make me want to cry and scream and decimate your enemies and…all of this, I want it to last longer.  I want to be _with_ you."

Severus knew.  And he believed that Remus believed it.  He just couldn't accept that it was true.  These things, these emotions…they shouldn't involve him.  Not him.  "Will you?" he asked.  His voice hard.  "When I come home to you reeking of blood and someone else's cum, will you want that?  Will you want the bereavement, the mourning that will probably come, sooner than later?  You can't protect me, Remus.  And I…I can't protect you."

"You don't need to," Remus answered, rolling over and pulling Severus to him, pleading.  "You do enough.  Everything could go to hell in a heartbeat, in these dark days.  But I don't want to wait."

"Because I might not be there?" Severus asked, his sneer lost for the fact the Remus's face was buried in his neck.

"Yes.  And I might not be, either."

"You'll tear me apart in the end, Lupin.  You know that, don't you?"

"I won't."

"You will.  Repeatedly, I'm betting." 

@@@

"Ow," he moaned blandly, as if he hadn't 3 broken ribs, a fractured wrist, broken jaw and so many bruises and scrapes that he was sure to piss blood for a week.  "Fuck fuck fuck," he hissed, and then cried.  It was a kind of semi-hysterical sobbing that Severus recognized but found hard to place.  It wasn't pleading.  It wasn't fear.  It was…grief.  Remus was lying there on the floor, where Severus had put him, curled into himself, crying as if…as if the love of his life had just died before his eyes and he had been powerless to stop it.

"I've never -," Severus began, looking at his bleeding knuckles, but then stopped himself before he hurt the man even more.  What could he say?  That he'd never hit anyone before?  That wasn't true.  It was rare, he conceded, for him to resort to physical violence, but it had happened on occasion, such as the first time they'd made love as adults.  And qualifying it to, "I've never hit anyone I love before," was equally ridiculous, because who _did_?  And he couldn't say he didn't mean it, and "I'm sorry," was so laughably inadequate, and the whole situation, his whole _being_, was so revolting that Severus followed his baser instincts once more.  He ran. 

When he forced himself to stop, Severus was thankful to find himself in his own rooms.  He could have easily ended up in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, for all he was aware in his retreat.  The rooms felt abandoned, and very cold.  He'd taken to sleeping in Remus's quarters these last few weeks, trusting his Slytherins to behave themselves and govern their own, just as they always did when sequestered from outside influences.  Lighting some candles, but not the fire, he sat on his sofa and tried to remember what had just happened that had resulted in him beating the _shit_ out of Remus Lupin.

Severus had come to Remus that night, fresh from a Death Eater meeting, fresh from the first rape since that night that had sent Severus flailing madly into Remus's all-too-accepting arms.  He'd come home to Remus so tired and sore and…numb, too, just a little bit numb, and wild, that he'd been desperate for something, anything with substance, and Remus was there, and Severus latched on to him like a drowning man to a…like a lost vessel to a light house.  

"Severus," Remus had said softly, his voice breaking with sadness, and a little rage at the sight of him so obviously broke open.  "I don't think we should…Severus, we should take care of these wounds, and let you rest."

But Severus hadn't accepted that, and he'd pushed and pushed and practically yelled at Remus to get on all fours and let him fuck him, and he knew that Lupin was hard, and he knew that he was crying, but he pushed him onto their bed and started tearing at the werewolf's clothes and ignored the whispers of, "Stop, no, stop," and was almost _there_ when Remus rolled out from under him.

"We _can't_," he gasped.  "I mean, God, Severus, you still smell like someone else's -."

And that's when Severus beat the shit out of Remus Lupin, before running away.  He felt, as he sat there in his dungeon rooms, that he should be crying, like he'd left Remus crying.  But he was too empty for it, too drained.  Looking about his rooms, he deliberately sought out reminders of Remus, little pieces of the man's life that had generously settled in these hostile waters.  A spare set of reading glasses.  A copy of the Egyptian Book of the Dead.  And that damned Penseive.  "A vault for good times," Remus had said, suggesting that Severus pour his meager, but not insignificant, collection of "happy memories" into it, to sustain him in his darkest hours.  _Why not?_ Severus asked himself, standing to walk towards it.  What better way to torture himself than to live in a memory of something he'd never have again, not after what he'd just done.

Once the swirling stopped and Severus felt his feet firm on the ground, less like clay but now uncomfortable like steel, or silver, Severus retreated to the corner of this remembered room, Remus's room in the sunlight.  The two of them were in bed, late Sunday morning, smiling and holding each other, even as they held their own copies of the Daily Prophet.  Laughing about some story, Remus suddenly stopped, took off his glasses, tore Severus's paper from his hands and pulled him closer.

"Why is it you haven't asked what I've done with my life, all those years we were strangers?" he asked.

"Lupin, I'm in the intelligence business.  You'd be surprised about how much I know about you."

"What, you've been _spying_ on me?" he laughed.

"Keeping tabs, more like.  And not just on you.  It was obvious to everyone with half a brain that the Dark Lord would not remain incorporeal forever."

"Of _course_."

"You don't believe me?"

"Well, I didn't – ."

"Then how do I know that you spent a night in a jail cell in Alaska some years ago?" Severus asked with a smirk.

"You – ha!  I bet you got a kick out of that."

"Indeed."

"Still, do you know what I was in for?"

"Something mundane, I'd imagine.  You put on an incredibly docile front, don't you?  What was it, some civil protest carried to far?"

"Hardly," Remus snorted.

"Fine.  _Maraudering_ then.  Vandalism?"

"Not even close.  One more chance, and then you must forfeit your air of intellectual superiority for one whole day.  Any longer than that, I'm afraid you'd shrivel up into a prune."

"Deal.  I have it.  Public drunkenness."

"Wrong!  I can't believe it!  I've bested Severus Snape!  Hail hail the conquering hero, and give me a kiss," he grinned.

"Don't be absurd.  What were you in for?"

"Prostitution."

"What?!"

"Oh, don't worry, it was a misunderstanding that was cleared up within minutes, but it was a small town, cold night, and they let me stay in the cell."

"In that case, the wager was hardly fair.  I was trying to deduce crimes that you might actually have committed."

"And you didn't put murder on the top of your list?  I'm _touched_."

"Now for that comment, you deserve your kiss."

Severus pulled himself away from the scene then, not willing to watch as he and Remus made love.  Even he had his limits.  Returning to his rooms, he saw that it was almost dawn, and that he'd spent hours in his memory, hours living a moment that, in reality, was all to brief.  He thought about the accelerated rate of decay for beautiful things, and then he bent over and vomited, not even trying to make it to his washroom.  Sitting there, reluctantly trying to catch his breath, leaving the stench in the air for the hope that he'd just _stop breathing_, he remembered the first time he'd hit Remus, how he'd gone into shock, replaying every bad thing that had been done to him his whole life.  He didn't have that luxury now.  Now, he was painfully lucid, and very much aware that _he_ was the cause of this pain.  That it wasn't a new sensation was of little comfort.

Cleaning himself up and dressing for a new day, he spent his free hour before breakfast cataloging his personal stock of potions.  Specifically, his medicinal potions.  The least foul, least painful cures for broken bones, torn ligaments, scrapes and bruises.  He looked at his collection of calming potions (he was forcing himself to acknowledge that fact that he'd nearly raped his lover last night), and of refreshers, for the red eyes that came with crying.  He wondered if he'd knocked any of Remus's teeth loose.  Or if he'd hit hard enough to cause internal hemorrhaging.  Betting that he did, he set those potions aside as well.  Finally, with nearly a dozen vials shrunk and stowed away in the pockets of his robes, he headed towards Remus's rooms, praying that he was still there, but hoping that he wasn't.

There was no answer at the door, so Severus let himself in.  He heard running water.  Remus, in the shower.  Moving silently towards the desk, stopping to briefly stare at the stain of blood on the rug, he enlarged the vials and left them with a brief note on dosage.  He tried to think of something else to write.  In the end, he couldn't even sign, "With Love."  So he left off his name, and left the room before Remus could find him there, so plainly lost for words.

Gryffindor paid dearly with house points for his sins that day.  After his morning classes, Dumbledore sent word, asking him to cover for that afternoon's Defense Against the Dark Arts course.  Remus had not been at meals all day, and Severus had assumed that it was only to avoid him, but now he was worried that he'd hurt the man more seriously than he'd realized.  Suppressing a need to see Remus, to make sure he was all right, all the while knowing that he had no right to be concerned, Severus made it through the rest of the day by deducting house points left and right, and assigning detentions when a student dared complain.  It wasn't enough, of course.  Nothing would be enough.  But it was all he had at the moment.

When the day was done, it found Severus alone in his rooms again, wondering if he should seek Remus out, or if it was more prudent to let the man come to him.  He tried to remember how he felt, when he was broken.  It happened often enough, but Severus couldn't decide.  Humiliation, that was there, but also a need for comfort.  Severus often needed…Albus.  No matter how manipulative the man was, he had an amazing capacity to make one feel better, loved even, simply by flashing that damn twinkling smile in a moment of vulnerability.  But Remus would never go to Dumbledore, that much Severus knew.  He didn't pretend to understand the relationship between the two men.  Like Severus, Remus owed a lot to Dumbledore for the faith placed in him when everyone else would ostracize him.  And, like Severus, sometimes that faith was tested, and almost proved misplaced.  But where Severus would kill himself over and over again to please the Headmaster, to prove himself worthy, Remus considered all debts paid, especially after Black's death.  No, Remus would never go to Dumbledore.  And he wouldn't go to Poppy to be healed, so he must have taken Severus's potions.  He wondered if the pretext of retrieving his vials was enough to gain him an audience with Remus, but ultimately decided against it.  When he slept that night, he dreamed of tanned, slightly scarred skin, and of a cry so heart-rending that he woke up in tears.


	10. Part TwoB

**Part Two - B**

Remus was in the Great Hall the next morning, already half-way through a light breakfast by the time Severus sat beside him.  It was the only empty chair, and a pathetic hope that Remus had engineered it that way flitted through Severus's mind, before he chased it away with a scowl at Remus, of all people.  Remus, whose face was still bruised.  Remus, who had the gall to smile at him, softly, like they were sharing some kind of silent joke.  Severus ate in silence, abandoning his plate when Remus rose to leave.  He knew that both Dumbledore and Potter were staring at him, but he did not care.  He followed Remus out into the corridor, and, once sure that they were alone, called out to stop him.  He thought his first words to the man would be an apology, granted an inadequate one, but instead –

"Your face, is that my punishment then?  More reason for the staff to hate me?  Or were you aiming for guilt?" he sneered, damning himself silently for being the bastard he'd always been.

Remus hadn't turned around, but he did then, his face both tense and intensely regretful.  Though Severus could not imagine what he could regret, besides ever associating with a Death Eater bastard.

"I don't want you to feel guilty, Severus.  Some things…always seem inevitable for some people," he answered quietly.  Students began seeping into the hallway, and Remus let himself into the closest anteroom, expecting to be followed.

"What are you on about?" Severus asked impatiently when the door was closed and warded.  He tried not to wince at the distance Remus was instinctively putting between them, for protection.

"Nothing.  Nothing.  Only, I understand the…appeal of putting a…controlled man in his place, especially when so many things are beyond your control.  You wouldn't be the…well, I've…it doesn't matter.  No lasting damage.  I don't want you to feel guilty, Severus, but I'd like to keep the bruises, heal naturally.   It's a badge of…something," Remus finished lamely.

"Weakness?" Severus snapped.

"Maybe," Remus shrugged.

"You've been hit before, and not by me."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you knew.  You know _everything_.  And I thought that's why it was easy for you too -,"

"You thought…I beat you because you would take it?"  Severus couldn't hide the fact that he was repulsed.  Nauseated.  

"I don't know.  I don't…I love you Severus.  It doesn't matter if…it doesn't matter.  I can…certain things I can take, if it's what you need of me.  Or I can…"

"Shut up."

"Severus?"

"Shut up!" he bellowed.  He couldn't stand this, couldn't stomach it.  He knew that Remus was a good man who often compromised himself in order to keep his friends.  He'd hated Black for using that quality in him, and now look where they were.  Remus was willing to…no, Severus couldn't even _think_ about that possibility.  He'd rather kill himself than allow Remus to debase himself for Severus.  Just the image of him lying on the floor, bleeding, crying…Severus couldn't _stomach_ it.

"You'd settle for that, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"_Why_?" Severus asked, his voice desperate.  All of him, desperate.  _Please don't say you do it for love_, he prayed to himself.  _Please don't let this be love for him_.

"Why do you spy, still?" Remus asked.

"It's hardly the same situation, Lupin," Severus snarled, any relief he might have felt for not hearing the wrong answer destroyed by frustration at a non-answer.  "Don't compare my reparation with your lacking feelings of self-worth."

"Do you always ask questions which you think you know the answer to?" Remus sighed, his voice finally carrying something more reasonable than forgiveness.

"Must be the educator in me," Severus smirked.

"The educator in you can fuck off with the rest of you," Remus growled, moving towards the door.

"That's the most intelligent thing you've said all day," Severus countered.  He'd meant to seal the fate of this doomed relationship, to say goodbye, to have the last words.  To praise Remus, in his own way, for finally doing what was best for him.  He should have known that things would not go his way.

"I have class.  Are you coming by tonight?" Remus asked, his hand still on the doorknob.

"I can't imagine why you'd want me there," Severus answered, frowning.

"I'll always want you there.  I told you that it didn't matter how you came home.  I told you I'd _be there_.  No matter what, Severus.  No matter _what_."

"You weren't bargaining for what happened last night though," Severus whispered, all his voice would allow.

"No, but…I concede that I said the wrong thing.  And you…struck out, because you could.  That's no excuse, but…believe me, Severus, this is something I can forgive."

"I can't."

"I know.  That's enough.  You won't…you won't do it again."  A statement of fact, not a question.  Severus's heart swelled at that, half with love, half with guilt for having someone he didn't deserve.

"No.  No, I swear I won't," Severus answered.

"You're crying."

"I know.  I am sorry."

"I know.  I'll see you tonight."  And then he was gone, and Severus could breathe. 

He kept breathing easily until the 7th year Gryffindor class.  Things went well, academically wise.  No explosions.  No petty fights.  Just blinding green eyes _glaring_ at him for two hours.  Potter wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was furious with his Potions Master, and Severus thanked God that N.E.W.T level classes were divided by house.  The last thing he'd need is a junior Death Eater writing home to daddy that something was going on, of a personal nature, between the Golden Boy and himself.  When the end of class came, Severus glided by Potter's cauldron, slipped in a thumbnail of powdered valerian, and walked on before the bubbles could spill over.

            "And once again, Potter, you provide the class with another reason to look at you.  These childish bids for attention are _really _getting tiresome.  You will, of course, remain after class to clean up this mess.  And, 10 points, I think, from Gryffindor, for wasting your classmate's time, not to mention my own.  Everyone else, you are dismissed," Severus announced with a genuine smirk.  He'd be failing Potter's potion as well, of course.  The boy should have learned by now to watch his cauldron more carefully.

            He watched in silence as the boy cleaned up the mess and gathered his things, occasionally looking up to stare at Severus with unmitigated hatred.  

            "Do you have something to say to me, Mr. Potter?" Severus sneered.

            Potter's jaws clenched and Severus knew that, whatever it was, had to be good.  Had to be something that could land Potter in detention for a long, long time.

            "You are an evil man," Harry finally growled out.  He was never one for self-control.

 "Such a child, after all," Severus sighed in mock-disappointment.  Granted, he'd nearly convinced himself that Potter had matured these past few years, but to be disappointed, he'd have to have expectations.  "Still living in a world of dichotomies.  Right and wrong, good and evil.  In the _real world_, the lines are blurred."

"You're wrong," Harry countered adamantly.  "Some things are absolute.  Like Albus Dumbledore.  He is a _good_ man."

"So naïve!  It'd be charming…if it wasn't so pathetic.  After all, who do you think killed that tragic godfather of yours?"  Severus had lost sight of why he was doing this.  It had been a relatively easy day, all things considering.  Why was he doing this?

"What?  I…that was Voldemort.  And Lestrange.  I…Dumbledore had nothing to do with that!"

"This is getting tiresome.  Well, Potter, ready to see how the big boys play?  Consider.  Black was a liability for our side.  He was too visible for surveillance, too hotheaded for anything else.  All he was good for was providing that hell hole for a base, and even that was an accident of birthright.  No, Black was dangerous.  _You_ made him dangerous.  And in the spying game, information doesn't come cheap. You have to give a little to get a little.  It was only a matter of time until Pettigrew would find it in him to convince the Dark Lord that Black was your Achilles' heal.  So your beloved Headmaster gave me the pleasurable task of trading Black's life for the schematics of a new Death Eater camp in Southern Wales."  _Why am I doing this_, Severus asked himself.  He hadn't told Remus this little tale, and Potter was sure to mention it in one of their tutorials.  And then, he'd lose him all over again, after just narrowly winning him back.

"But…but the occulmancy lessons!  You were training me to stop the visions!  Dumbledore asked you to do that, and it would have saved Sirius, so you're wrong!  You're lying!"

Severus could hear the desperation in Potter's voice.  It was something he understood all too well.  He was, after all, about to tear down one of the boy's heroes.  He wondered if a memory charm would be more appropriate, but there were rules against that kind of thing.  Something Lockhart had never bothered to learn, but _Obliviate_ could be detected by the school's wards, a guard against lecherous professors taking advantage of their students and then wiping away the evidence with one junior-grade spell.  So he went on, damning himself further, and Potter too.

"Listen to yourself, _boy_.  _Dumbledore asked me_.  Do you think for one moment I would have let my guard down around you, that I would allow you to see classified Order business hidden in my memories?"  

"That's why you had the Headmaster's penseive."

"Yes.  Now, try to keep up.  Do you think the headmaster, in all his infinite wisdom, would have failed to warn me about that stunt you pulled in your fourth year with the very same penseive?  It would have been a big leap of faith to assume you'd grown up and learned to respect the privacy of others."

"I don't understand."

" Naturally.  Let me walk you through.  _Dumbledore_ told me to inform Voldemort of your affinity for Black.  _Dumbledore_ told me to give you access to my penseive.  _Dumbledore_ told me to catch you in the act of snooping and to react appropriately, once it became clear that you were hopeless at the task at hand.  _Dumbledore_ created a reason for the lessons to stop, he created yet another strain on our relationship that would mean you would never consider coming to me for help, he convinced Black to keep that filthy little house elf in the house, and _he_ failed to protect Black from a second class duelist.  True, he didn't want Black killed, because he was an able body, like any pawn of this war.  And he was a Gryffindor, and had certain qualities that some would see as worthy.  But he saw what was coming, what road he'd started you on, and he took advantage of the situation.  He eliminated the chink in your armor, Potter, while at the same time forcing you to grow up just a little bit and to build up inside yourself enough anger at Voldemort to insure your loyalty to _us_.  Oh yes, Dumbledore is good and right.  He's good at manipulating people.  And he was right about the best way of doing it to you."

"Then what does he have on you?" Potter asked angrily, having more restraint than Severus would have credited him with.  "If you're so smart, how does he manage to convince you to half kill yourself every week for information that does no bloody good?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but the Headmaster no longer _has_ to manipulate me.  Long ago, he used my guilt.  And, when it came to you, my honor and debt.  But that debt's been repaid, and my guilt has dissolved, and I still go on because it is the only purpose I have.  Maybe you can understand that?"  Severus was bewildered and at a loss to find the point when this became a _real _conversation.

"There's more to my life than being the Boy Who Lived."

"Well, in that case I'm very pleased for you."

"And you're more than a spy."  Potter sounded unsure, grudging, but not as if it were out of the realm of possibility.

"Yes, I'm the greasy Potions Master," Severus laughed nastily.  This was getting ridiculous. 

"What about Remus?" Potter finally asked.  Severus had been wondering when, in the past 10 minutes, the name would have been mentioned.  "I thought…aren't you something to him, too?"  Which, they both knew, was a wasted question, when Potter had obviously entered into this thing certain that Severus was an abusive prick.

"I'm his penance," Severus answered, surprising himself that he was being honest, and that this was what he honestly believed.

 " I don't understand."

" Then you'll have to ask him.  You need to leave, anyway.  My Slytherins will be coming back from classes soon and they know you don't have a detention with me."

"I still believe in good, you know?  You can't argue that away."

"Again, I'm very pleased for you.  It might not always be that way."

" Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodbye."

_This isn't right_, Severus thought, as he strained to hold himself in while making love to Remus that night.  He was going slow, being gentle.  _Loving, it's called_, he told himself, moving into and against Remus.  Remus, who was being so passive.  Whose hands were limply resting on his shoulders.  Whose face was…_God, he can't even look at me.  God.  Fuckfuckfuck he's crying, looking away with eyes shut and crying_.  And whispering, Severus just noticed.  Containing a moan, a pant, he pushed in deeper, trying to get close enough to hear.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned," Remus whispered, a lost, little voice.  

Severus stopped.

"What?" he choked out, not wanting to hear the answer, but asking anyway.  Who said there was only room for one masochist in any given relationship?

"Penance?" Remus asked him, finally looking at him in the eyes, with his blurry blues.  "Tell me, Severus, what have I done that was so _heinous _that I deserved _you_?"

_This is grotesque_, Severus thought, knowing that he was still buried inside Remus, but so far away at the same time.  So unworthy of closeness, and so unwilling to give it up.  But he did.  Give it up.

"You tell me, Remus," he said, pulling away from his lover.  "I'm not…good to you.  I'm cruel.  You've seen how cruel I can be.  I can't help but feel like…I'm the price you're paying for something you think you've done wrong."

"God save me from needful things," Remus mocked under his breath.  "What is this, Severus?  Save the Werewolf Day?  Or do you merely want me to stroke your ego, listing all the many ways that I love you, all your admirable qualities? Let me assure you, at this moment, they won't counterbalance the score of reasons that make you a fucking arsehole."

"Then we have nothing more to talk about," Severus answered coldly, hoping that his face was set enough not to betray the fact that his chest was caving in, that he was bleeding out.  He stood and began to gather his clothes.

"Fuck, Severus, why is everything a _fight_ with you?" Remus shouted, covering himself with the bed sheet.  "Are you only happy when people hate you?  No, don't answer.  Any answer would be a lie.  I've seen you happy, in this bed I've seen you happy, and you were not hated.  But…why…how can you say these things to me?  About me?  Christ, what were you doing talking to Harry like that?"

"Potter has the discretion of…of _Hagrid_," Severus spluttered, hating that he'd lost his will, and nerve, to fight back.  

"Don't give me that," Remus snapped.  "You knew damn well he'd come to me after all those things you said.  And Sirius…was all of that _true_, or were you just out to hurt him?"

"I can hurt him easily enough with the truth," Severus sneered.

"Yes.  I can see that you can.  Why…why didn't you tell me?"

Severus would have yelled if not for the utter emptiness in Remus's eyes.  _But what other kind of emptiness is there?_

"I may have exaggerated the depth of my involvement in that situation," Severus admitted.  "It's true that I told Voldemort that Potter and Black were close, and occasionally in contact, but it was already known to him.  The only new information I passed on was that Potter was staying with his godfather for Christmas, and for that I was admitted into a meeting that got me the Welsh house's plans."

"Why do you want Harry to think the worst of Albus?" Remus asked.  They were skirting around the real issue, but it could wait, and the diversion was a prelude of pain.

"I want him to grow out of blind faith," Severus answered.

"Do you want the same from me?" Remus whispered.

"If it's misplaced, yes," Severus answered urgently.  "Yes."

"It's not in your power to judge," Remus countered.  "But you try your best not to be worthy of it."

"If you want it in the baldest of terms, Lupin, you shall have it," Severus growled, exasperated by the effort of the inevitable.  "I'm quite capable of fucking and being fucked by you while not caring for you at all.  It's a peculiar strength of will, I grant you, but one I find immeasurably useful.  However, I _do_ care for you at the moment, and that causes me…discomfort, when I see your reactions to my casual cruelty.  So either you find it in you to react appropriately when I am being a cunt, or we resign ourselves to a loveless series of one-night stands, or we say goodbye and try to forget this failed experiment in love."

The fierce shout of "_Incendio_," was more of a demonstration of indignation than Severus had bargained for, and he collapsed back onto the bed, cradling his flame-blistered hand, trying to suppress his unnatural instinct to lick his wounds.  And then the smell of boiling flesh hit him, and he looked at his hands, at the skin burning away to muscles and tendons, and he summoned the strength he could to lean his head over the side of the bed before retching on the floor.  And still, Remus did not remove the hex.

"Is this cruel enough for you, Severus?" Remus hissed.  

_God, hissing, hissing_, Severus thought, and he was sure he said something embarrassing, something about master and please and _god, fuck me, rape me, anything but don't take my hands_.

"Yes," he said, calmly, speaking with a voice not his own, because his own was busy begging like the weakling he felt himself to be.

"And do you really want me to be so cruel?" Remus asked.

"No!" Severus cried.  And it wasn't pain this time, physical at any rate.  It was the thought of his sweet, kind, gentle, loving _Remus_, playing a monster, just to please him.  _Playing a monster, when he's been labeled one his whole life_, Severus reminded himself through the pain.  _When it's what he fears the most_.

"No, Remus, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry, please don't.  I love you.  I love _you_!"

To anyone witnessing the scene, it would look like Severus was begging for his life.  But it was bigger than that, and for the first time, Severus saw it.  His love for…_with_ Remus, was bigger than his life.  Bigger than anything he'd ever had before.  Suddenly, he felt no pain.  Remus had stopped the hex, and had given him a potion and tended his wounds, and he was holding him to him, his glorious, loving, gentle skin, wrapped around Severus like it was his own.  Remus was his own.

"Don't ever do that again," Severus said, voice hoarse from screaming.

"I won't," Remus answered, holding Severus even tighter.  

"I mean it, Remus.  Never become that, for me.  I'd rather die."

"And you…you know I can take that kind of torture.  Only don't make me hate you, Severus.  I'd rather die."

"Me too," Severus agreed softly, feeling that Remus was about to fall asleep. It was nearing 2 in the morning.  A new day, full of hope.  "Me too."

**The End**.

**A/N:**  The real end, a happy ending I hope.  Some might choose to think that Remus and Severus won't make it…but I think they will.  I'm a sucker for angst and all, but give me a happy ending any day.  Anyways, I wanted to thank you all for reading, and these people for their reviews of the last two installments – 

The Treacle Tart

Caliowiel

Jedi Buttercup

N snape

Arafel2

Neuroticsquirrel

Morrolan (it'll take me a while to recognize the new name!)

Anna

Bright phoenix

Lillinfields

Tall oaks


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